>  JUN  17  196^  ^ 


BX  7233  .D8  1828 

Dwight,  Timothy,  1752-1817; 

Sermons 


SERMONS; 


FEB  13  1912 


?(CAL 


BT 


TIMOTHY  DWIGHT,  D.  D.  LL.  D. 


liATE  PRESIDENT  OF  YALE  COLLEGE. 


IN  TWO  VOLUMES. 


VOLUME  II. 


NEW  HAVEN  : 
PUBLISHED  BY  HEZEKIAH  HOWE  AND  DUKRIE  &  PECK. 

1828. 


DISTRICT  OF  COJVJVECTWUT,  ss. 

«.#»)tinnf,(»  Be  it  remembered,  That  on  the  22d  day  of  March,  in  the  fifty- 
It  ^  I  ^^^o'^*^  y^^'"  ^^  ^^^  Independence  of  the  United  States  of  America, 
*  *  Timothy  Dwight,   and  William  T.   Dwight,   of  said   District, 

*********  Administrators  of  the  Rev.  Timothy  Dwight,  now  deceased,  and  late 
of  the  said  District,  have  deposited  in  this  office,  the  title  of  a  Book,  the  right  whereof 
thej' claim  as  Administrators,  aforesaid,  and  Proprietors,  in  the  words  following,  to  wit: 

"  Sermons  by  Timothy  Dwight,  D.D.  LL.D.  late  President  of  Vale  College,  in 

two  volumes." 

In  conformity  to  the  Act  of  Congress  of  the  United  States,  entitled,  "  An  Act  for 
the  encouragement  ol'  learning,  bj'  securing  the  copies  of  Maps,  Charts,  and  Books, 
to  the  authors  and  proprietors  of  such  copies,  during  the  times  therein  mentioned.".., 
And  also  to  the  Act,  entitled,  "An  Act  supplementary  to  an  Act,  entitled,  'An  Act 
for  the  encouragement  of  learning,  hy  securing  the  copies  of  Maps,  Charts,  and 
Books,  to  the  Authors  and  Proprietors  of  such  copies  during  the  times  therein  men- 
tioned,' and  extending  the  benefits  thereof  to  the  arts  of  designing,  engraving,  and 
etching  historical  and  other  prints." 

CHA'S  A.  INGERSOLL, 

Clerk  of  the  District  of  Connecticut. 
A  true  copy  of  Record,  examined  and  sealed  by  me, 

CHA'S  A.  INGERSOLL, 

Clerk  of  the  District  qf  Connecticut. 


PRINTED    BY    HEZEKIAH    HOWE NEW    HAVEN. 


CONTENTS  OF  THE  SECOND  VOLUME. 


page, 
SERMON  1. 
A  just  sense  of  the  Character  and  Presence  of  God,  a  source 

of  Repentance. — Job  xlii.  5,  6 5 

SERMON  IK 

The  Young  exhorted  to  Sobriety  of  Mind. — Titus  ii.  6.        .     .         20 

SERMON  III. 
The  Danger  of  losing  Convictions  of  Conscience. — Matt.  xii. 

43 — 45 35 

SERMON  IV. 

The  Folly  of  trusting  our  own  hearts. — Fror.  xxviii.  2G.       .        51 

SERMONS  V.  VI. 

The  Prodigal  Son.— LwAre  XV.  11— 17 68 

SERMON  VII. 

Those  who  believe  not  (he  Scriptures,  would  not  he  persua- 
ded, though  one  rose  from  the  dead. — Luke  xvi.  31.     .     .        97 

SERMON  VIII. 
On  Sloth.— Frot;.  xxiv.  30— 32 114 

SERMONS  IX.  X. 
The  Danger  of  frequenting  Evil  Company. — Prov.  xiii.  20.      .       131 

SERMONS  XI.  XII. 
The  duty  of  remembering  the  Creator  in  Youth. — jEcc/c.v.  xii.  1.     155 

SERMON  XIII. 

The  Youth  of  Nain.— Lwfcc  vii.  11— 15 181 

SERMONS  XIV.  XV. 
Considerations  in  Adversity. — Eccles.  vii.  14 2U 

SERMON  XVI. 
Sermon  on  the  Old  Year,  Dec.  1805. — Pi^alm  xc  9.     .     .     .      228 

SERMON  XVII.  ' 
Sermon  for  the  New  Year,  Jan.  1807. — ./er.  xxviii.  16.     .     .      24S 


/ 


IV  CONTENTS. 

SERMON  XVIII.  page./ 

Sermon  for  the  New  Year,  Jan.  1809. — Luke  xiii.  6-— 9.     .     .      258 

SERMON  XIX. 

Long  Life  not  desirable. — Job  vii.  16 273 

SERMON  XX. 

The  Rich  Man  and  Lazarus. — Luke  xvi.  26 293 

SERMON  XXL 

The  Coming  of  Christ. — Luke  xii.  40 305 

SERMON  XXIL 

The   Final  Interview. — Eccles.  xii.  7 322 

SERMONS  XXin    XXIV. 

Considerations  on  the  Final  Trial. — Eccles.  xii.  14 338 

SERMONS  XXV.  XXVI. 
The   Disappointments,   which  will  take  place  at  the  Day  of 

Judgment. — Luke  xiii.  28 — 30 367 

SERMON  XXVIL 

The  Harvest  Fast— -Jer.  viii.  20 401 

SERMON  XXVIII. 
Considerations  on  the  Character  of  Noah. — 2  Peter  ii.  5.     .     .      418 

SERMON  XXIX. 
Duty  of  preaching  the  Gospel — Gal.  i.  8,9 433 

SERMON  XXX. 

The  Dignity  and  Excellence  of  the  Gospel. — 1  Peter  ii.  12. 
Preached  at  the  Ordination  of  the  Rev.  William  Lock- 
wood,  at  Milford,  in  1785 ;  and  at  that  of  the  Rev.  Nathan- 
iel W.  Taylor,  at  New  Haven,  in  1812 453 

SERMON  XXXI. 

The  Preaching  of  Paul  before  Felix. — ictsxxiv.2b.  Preached 
at  the  Ordination  of  the  Rev.  Samuel  Merwin,  at  New 
Haven,  in  1805 479 

SERMON  XXXII. 
The  Purity  of  the  Ministerial  Character. — Matt.  v.  13.  Preach- 
ed ft  the  Ordination  of  the  Rev.  Moses  Stuart,  at  New 
Haven,  in  1806.     .     •     • 505 


SERMON  I. 

A  JUST  SENSE  OF  THE   CHARACTER  AND  PRESENCE  OF  GOD  A 
SOURCE  OF  REPENTANCE. 


Job  xlii.  5,  6. 

/  have  heard  of  Thee  by  the  hearing  of  the  ear  ;  but  now  mine 
eye  seeth  Thcc. 

Wherefo9-e  I  abhor  myself  and  repent  in  dust  and  a^hes. 

Job,  as  every  person  who  reads  his  Bible  knows,  was  an  emi- 
nently righteous  man.  God  himself  testifies,  that  there  was  none 
like  him  in  the  earth  ;  that  he  was  perfect  and  upright  ;  that  he 
feared  God,  and  eschewed  evil.  Still  he  was  afflicted  beyond 
most  other  men.  He  lost  his  property,  and  his  children.  He 
was  distressed  with  a  most  painful  and  loathsome  disease.  His 
wife  treated  him  with  the  bitterest  unkindness ;  and  his  friends 
put  a  finishing  hand  to  his  sufferings  by  insisting  that  they  were 
all  exhibitions  of  the  anger  of  God  against  him,  on  account  of 
his  peculiar  guilt.  Job  vindicated  his  character  against  these 
charges  with  firmness  and  zeal.  In  the  progress  of  the  debate 
both  parties  evidently  passed  the  bounds  of  moderation.  While 
his  friends  attributed  to  him  crimes  which  he  had  not  committed, 
and  guilt  which  he  had  not  incurred  ;  Job  strenuously  challenged, 
in  terms  too  unqualified,  an  innocence  and  a  purity,  to  which  his 
claims  were  certainly  imperfect. 

When  their  dispute  was  ended,  Elihu,  a  young  man,  who  had 
been  a  witness  of  their  zeal,  censured  them  all  for  their  heat,  for 
the  intemperance  of  their  sentiments,  the  unreasonable  imputa- 
tions of  the  one  party,  and  the  unwarranted  self-justification  of 
the  other.  At  the  same  time  he  vindicated,  in  a  becoming  man- 
ner, the  justice  of  the  Divine  dispensations  towards  Job  ,*  exhib- 

VoL.  H.  2 


6         A  JUST  SENSE  OF  THE  CHARACTER  AND  PRESENCE    [SER.  I 

ited  in  a  strong  light  the  greatness  and  perfection  of  Jehovah  ; 
and  urged,  irresistibly,  the  duty  of  implicit  submission  to  his  will. 

When  Elihu  had  closed  his  discourse,  God  manifested  himself 
to  this  assembly  of  disputants  in  a  storm,  accompanied  with  thun- 
der and  lightning ;  and  answered  Job  out  of  the  whirlwind,  by 
which  they  were  borne  along.  In  a  series  of  sublime  and  won- 
derful observations  he  displayed  his  own  supreme  excellence;  the 
immeasurable  greatness,  the  incomprehensible  multitudcyand  the 
unfathomably  mysterious  nature,  of  the  works  of  creation  and 
providence.  With  these  observations  he  interwove,  also,  strong 
and  overwhelming  proofs  of  the  littleness,  ignorance,  and  imbe- 
cility, of  man  ;  and  shewed,  unanswerably,  how  impossible  it  was, 
that  such  a  being  should  judge,  with  any  propriety,  concerning 
the  divine  dispensations. 

By  these  discoveries  of  the  true,  great,  and  perfect  character 
of  God,  Job,  as  we  might  well  expect,  was  deeply  humbled,  and 
led  to  genuine  self-abhorrence,  and  sincere  repentance. 

The  great  evangelical  truth,  which  is  contained  in  this  passage, 
thus  illustrated,  and  on  which  I  mean  to  insist  in  the  following 
discourse,  is  this : 

That  clear  and  just  vieivs  of  the  character,  and  presence,  of 
God  naturalhj  produce  in  the  mind  abasing  and  penitential 
thoughts  concerning  ourselves. 

This  doctrine  I  shall  attempt  to  illustrate  by  the  following  ob- 
servations. 

God  is  our  Creator,  Preserver,  and  Benefactor.  He  formed  us 
out  of  nothing  ;  breathed  into  our  nostrils  the  breath  of  life  ;  and 
caused  us  to  become  living  souls.  He  made  us  wiser  than  the 
beasts  of  the  field,  and  the  fowls  of  heaven  ;  and  enabled  us  by 
the  light  of  reason  to  discern  his  character  and  his  agency  ;  and, 
by  our  moral  powers,  to  love,  and  serve,  and  glorify,  him  forever. 
The  being  which  he  gave,  he  upholds  by  the  word  of  his  power  ; 
and  renders  desirable  by  the  exercise  of  his  goodness.  His  mer- 
cies to  us  are  new  every  morning,  and  fresh  every  moment.  Life, 
and  breath,  and  all  things  which  we  enjoy,  are  among  the  good 
gifts,  which  come  down  from  the  Father  of  lights,  with  whom  is 


SER.  I]       OF  GOD  A  SOURCE  OF  REPENTANCE.  7 

?w  variableness^  neither  shadow  of  turning.  AH  these  consider- 
ations prove,  indubitably,  that  in  the  highest  possible  sense  we 
are  the  property  of  this  great  and  glorious  Being  ;  in  such  a  sense, 
as  nothing  is  ours.  Indeed,  nothing  is  ours,  except  what  he  has 
given  us  ;  and  all  the  property  which  Intelligent  creatures  pos- 
sess or  can  possess,  in  any  thing,  is  created  solely  by  the  gift  of 
God. 

From  these  considerations,  it  is  evident,  God  has  an  absolute 
right  to  dispose  of  us  in  whatever  manner  seems  good  in  his  sight : 
Particularly,  he  has  an  unquestionable  right  to  prescribe  for  us 
such  laws,  and  require  of  us  such  services,  as  he  pleases.  What- 
ever he  prescribes  we  are  bound  by  the  highest  possible  obliga- 
tion to  obey  :  whatever  he  requires,  we  are  by  the  same  obliga- 
tion bound  to  perform. 

This  unlimited  right  God  is  infinitely  able  to  vindicate.  His 
power  is  immeasurable.  Disobedience  to  his  commands  he  can 
punish  without  bounds,  and  without  end.  He  knows  every 
avenue  to  the  heart ;  and  can  make  every'  thought  and  every 
nerve,  a  channel  of  suffering.  To  escape  from  his  eye  or  his 
hand,  is  alike  impossible.  Every  clement,  every  faculty,  and 
even  every  enjoyment,  he  can  convert  into  a  minister  of  ven- 
geance. He  needs  not  the  famine  nor  the  pestilence,  the  storm 
nor  the  thunder-bolt,  the  volcano  nor  the  earthquake,  the  sword 
nor  the  sceptre  of  tyranny  ;  to  execute  his  wrath  upon  his  rebel- 
lious creatures.  He  needs  no  lake  of  fire  and  brimstone  to  tor- 
ment the  workers  of  iniquity.  He  can  arm  an  insect,  he  can 
commission  an  atom,  to  be  the  minister  of  his  anger.  He  can 
make  the  body  its  own  tormentor.  He  can  convert  the  mind  it- 
self into  a  world  of  perdition,  where  the  gloom  of  despair  shall 
overcast  all  the  faculties ;  the  sigh  of  anguish  heave,  and  the 
stream  of  sorrow  flow  forever. 

In  the  possession  of  this  mighty  power  he  is  still  just.  No  in- 
telligent creature  will  ever  find  a  solid  reason  for  complaining  of 
God.  His  commandments  concerning  all  things  are  absolutely 
right.  I  do  not  intend,  that  they  are  right,  because  they  are  his 
commandments :   they   are  right  in   themselves.     The  things 


a        A  JUST  SENSE  OF  THE  CHARACTER  AND  PRESENCE    [SER.  I 

which  they  require,  are  the  very  things  which  wisdom  sufficiently 
informed,  and  virtue  sufficiently  pure,  would  choose  to  do  in  pre- 
ference to  all  others.  In  themselves  therefore,  they  contain  am- 
ple reasons  why  they  should  be  done  by  us. 

At  the  same  time  he  is  infinitely  good.  "  Thou  art  good^'''' 
says  David,  "  and  thou  dost  good  ;  and  thy  tender  mercies  are 
over  all  thy  worlisy  Even  in  this  rebellious  world  he  has  not 
left  himself  without  abundant  witness,  ^''in  that  he  gives  us  rain 
from  heaven  and  fruitful  seasons,  and  fills  our  hearts  with  food 
and  gladness.''''  Our  health,  our  food,  our  raiment,  our  friends, 
our  hopes  ;  the  nameless  and  numberless  enjoyments  which  suc- 
ceed each  other  without  intermission,  and  flow  in  an  unceasing 
stream  through  the  period  of  life  ;  and  peculiarly,  the  means  and 
proffers  of  life  beyond  the  grave  ;  are  all  daily  and  divine  proofs 
of  the  kindness  of  our  great  Benefactor.  From  Him  who  does 
these  things,  to  such  beings  as  we  are,  what  blessings  would  not 
descend  were  we  better.  Were  we  innocent ;  can  we  doubt, 
that  our  thorns  and  briers  would  bloom  with  the  beauty  of  Para- 
dise ?  Were  we  of  an  angelic  disposition  ;  can  we  hesitate  to 
believe  that  earth  would  be  changed  into  heaven  ? 

Of  the  goodness  of  God  his  mercy  is  the  consummation  and 
glory.  When  we  had  ruined  ourselves,  and  had  none  to  save,  or 
even  to  pity  us  ;  he  sent  his  Son,  his  only  beloved,  to  redeem  us 
from  our  sins,  and  to  rescue  us  from  perdition.  He  sent  him  to 
endure  the  contradiction  of  sinners,  and  to  undergo  the  death  of 
the  Gi'oss.  At  the  tidings  of  this  wonderful  work  heaven  opened 
its  gates  to  receive  mankind  ;  and  thousands  and  millions  of  re- 
penting sinners  entered  the  path,  which  leads  to  immortal  life ; 
and  found  themselves  welcomed  in  that  happy  world,  with  Sijoy, 
never  exercised  over  just  persons  loho  need  no  repentance. 

He  is  also  our  Ruler,  our  Judge,  and  our  Rewarder.  The  uni- 
verse which  he  has  made,  is  his  own  empire.  All  the  beings  by 
which  it  is  inhabited,  are  his  subjects.  The  dominion  which  he 
exercises  over  them,  is  dictated  by  the  glorious  perfections  which 
I  have  mentioned.  To  rebel  against  it,  is  to  oppose  the  excel- 
lence and  authority  of  the  Ruler,  and  the  interests  of  his  immense 


SER.  I]       OF  GOD  A  SOURCE  OF  REPENTANCE.  9 

and  eternal  kingdom.  Those,  who  rebel,  he  will  therefore  sum- 
mon to  judgment ;  and  demand  from  them  an  account  of  all  the 
deeds,  done  in  the  body.  According  to  these  deeds  they  will  be 
judged  and  rewarded. 

From  these  considerations,  he,  who  realizes  them,  will  perceive 
in  the  clearest  light  that  in  every  sin,  he  is  guilty  of  gross  injustice 
to  his  Maker,  in  refusing  him  that  which  is  his  by  the  highest  and 
most  unquestionable  right ;  an  injustice,  at  which  he  would  start, 
were  it  practised  upon  his  neighbour  ;  of  bold  and  impious  re- 
bellion against  his  righteous  government ;  of  gross  and  dreadful 
ingratitude  to  his  goodness  and  mercy  ;  and  of  an  impious  disre- 
gard to  his  perfect  and  glorious  character. 

The  guilt,  inherent  in  all  this  wickedness,  will  be  mightily  en- 
hanced by  distinct  perceptions  of  the  puntij  of  God.  Behold,  the 
heavens  arc  not  clean  in  his  sight ;  and  his  Angels  are  charged 
with  folly !  How  ahominahle  then,  ought  every  sinner  to  ex- 
claim, how  filth ij  am  I,  who  drink  iniquity  like  water.  That  every 
Intelligent  creature  ought,  in  some  good  measure,  to  resemble  his 
Maker  in  this  attribute,  will  not  be  questioned,  except  by  a  mind 
peculiarly  gross  and  guilty.  It  cannot  be  soberly  doubted,  that 
both  our  thoughts  and  our  lives  ought  to  be  clean.  Accordingly, 
we  are  taught  that  good  men,  of  course,  aim  assiduously  at  this 
character.  "  Every  man  that  hath  this  hope  in  him,''''  saith  St. 
John,  '■'■purifieth  himself,  even  as  God  is  pure.''''  But  nothing  can 
more  strongly  enhance  the  sense  of  our  impurity,  than  a  compar- 
ison of  our  own  character  with  that  of  God.  We  cannot  but  dis- 
cern that  the  all-perfect  Mind,  infinitely  distant  from  every  stain, 
must  demand  an  absolute  freedom  from  pollution  in  those  who 
are  to  dwell  with  him,  and  obtain  an  interest  in  his  everlasting 
love.  What  abasing  views  of  himself  must  this  consideration, 
strongly  realized,  awaken  in  the  mind  of  every  sinful  being  ? 

The  same  effect  will  be  exceedingly  increased  by  just  appre- 
hensions of  the  transcendent  Greatness  of  God.  The  importance 
which  a  sinner  attributes  to  himself  has  no  existence,  except  to 
the  jaundiced  eye  of  pride.  Yesterday  we  were  formed  of  the 
dust :  to-morrow  we  go  down  to  the  grave.    From  our  birth  to 


10      A  JUST  SENSE  OF  THE  CHARACTER  AND  PRESENCE    [SER.  I. 

our  death  we  are  frail,  dependant,  helpless,  little,  ignorant,  and 
polluted //•07?z  the  crown  of  the  head  to  the  sole  of  the  foot.  Still 
we  are  proud  of  ourselves,  and  of  our  circumstances.  How  strange 
is  this  conduct !  How  weak  ;  how  sinful ;  how  unhappy  !  There 
is  no  method  in  which  thismiiserable  spirit  can  be  extinguished, 
or  even  lessened,  so  effectually,  as  by  bringing  God  before  our 
eyes.  To  the  view  of  solemn  thought  what  a  being  must  He  be, 
who  called  the  Universe  out  of  darkness  ;  who  spoke,  and  it  was 
filled  with  inhabitants  ;  who  himself  fills  immensity  ;  who  inhabits 
eternity  ;  whose  smile  makes  heaven  ;  whose  frown  makes  hell  ? 
Who  can  be  profitable  to  such  a  Being  ?  Who  can  be  necessa- 
ry ?  Were  heaven  to  be  emptied  of  its  Angels  at  once  ;  his  word 
would  replenish  it  again  with  others  equally  wise,  great,  and 
good.  What  then  must  we  be  ?  Nothings  less  than  nothings  and 
vanity. 

As  it  is  impossible,  that  he  should  need  us  or  our  services,  it  is 
certain  that  he  requires  nothing  of  us  for  himself;  and  that  all 
his  commands  are  given  for  our  good,  and  not  his.  Of  course, 
all  the  advantages,  derived  from  our  obedience,  must  be  our  own. 
He  will  not  be  benefited.  We  shall  be  better,  and  of  course  hap- 
pier. 

But  from  his  hand  we  need  all  tilings.  We  are  of  yesterday, 
and  know  nothing.  If  our  mental  darkness  is  illumined,  the 
light  must  come  from  heaven.  Our  strength  is  weakness  ;  and 
of  ourselves  we  can  do  nothing.  All  our  sufliciency  is  from  God. 
His  breath  animated  our  lifeless  forms.  His  power  quickened 
our  souls  into  thought,  and  action.  We  breathe  his  air ;  we  live 
upon  his  food.  His  arm  guides  us  ;  his  hand  sustains  us ;  his 
mercy  calls  us  to  the  possession  of  eternal  life.  ^  We  are  nothing, 
we  have  nothing,  we  hope  for  nothing,  but  what  he  is  pleased  to 
give.  With  these  considerations  in  view,  our  importance  and 
our  pride  sink  in  the  dust.  In  this  manner  good  men  have,  in  all 
ages,  learned  and  loved  to  abase  themselves.  Thus  David,  in  the 
eighth  Psalm,  strongly  affected  with  a  sense  of  the  greatness  of 
God  as  displayed  in  the  works  of  his  hands,  cries  out  with  the 
deepest  humility :  "  When  I  consider  the  heavens,  the  work  of  thy 


SER.  I.]  OF  GOD  A  SOURCE  OF  REPENTANCE.  1 1 

fingers^  the  moon  and  the  stars  which  thou  hast  ordained ;  uohizt, 
is  man,  that  thou  art  mindful  of  him,  and  the  son  of  man,  that 
thou  visitest  him  /"  Thus,  also,  Job  exclaims  in  the  text :  "  / 
have  heard  of  Thee  by  the  hearing  of  the  ear  ;  but  now  mine  eye 
seeth  Thee.  Wherefore  I  abhor  myself  and  repent  in  dust  and 
ashes.'''' 

All  these  considerations  will  be  mightily  enhanced,  and  their 
efficacy  powerfully  increased,  by  the  recollection  of  the  Omni- 
presence, and  Omniscience,  of  God.  The  consciousness,  that  this 
great  and  awful  Being  is  wherever  we  are ;  accompanies  us 
wheresoever  we  go  ;  and  surrounds  us  in  crowds,  and  in  solitude  ; 
gives  a  solemnity  to  our  existence,  and  an  importance  to  all  our 
conduct,  which  can  be  derived  from  nothing  else.  What  an  eye 
is  that  which  is  employed  in  searching  the  hearts,  and  trying  the 
jeins,  of  the  children  of  men  ;  which  is  always  looking  directly 
on  our  hearts  ;  which,  as  a  flame  of  fire,  shines  into  the  recesses 
of  the  soul,  and  changes  the  darkness  into  day  ;  which  has  watch- 
ed all  our  sins  from  the  beginning,  and  has  seen  every  impious 
and  profane,  every  ungrateful  and  impure  thought,  word,  and  ac- 
tion !  What  a  hand  is  that,  which  has  recorded  all  these  things 
in  the  book  out  of  which  we  shall  be  judged  ;  and  will  open  to 
us  the  dark  and  melancholy  pages,  at  the  final  day  !  How  must 
the  presence  of  such  an  eye  and  such  a  hand  make  every  sinner 
turn  pale  with  conscious  guilt,  and  tremble  at  an  approaching 
judgment ;  if  he  be  not  blind,  and  deaf,  and  dead,  in  trespasses 
and  sins  ! 

When  we  call  to  mind  what  an  appearance  we  must  make  be- 
fore Him,  tvho  is  of  purer  eyes  than  to  behold  iniquity,  and  can- 
not look  upon  sinners ;  how  can  we  fail  of  seeing  ourselves  in 
some  measure  as  God  sees  us  ?  of  thinking  concerning  sin  as  he 
thinks?  and  of  feeling  in  our  hearts,  that,  as  our  guilt  is  of  the 
deepest  die,  our  punishment  must  be  dreadful  ? 

Were  all  these  considerations  regularly  present  to  the  mind  ; 
were  they  daily  and  deeply  realized  ;  they  must,  one  would  be- 
lieve, almost  necessarily  make  a  thinking  man  sober ;  a  sober 
man  serious  ;  a  serious  man  awakened  ;  an  awakened  man  pen- 


J  2     A  JUST  SENSE  OF  THE  CHARACTER  AND  PRESENCE    [SER.  I. 

itent ;  and  a  penitent  man  watchful,  prayerful,  diligent  and  vig- 
orous, in  the  performance  of  his  duty.  Particularly,  if  we  have 
any  just  views  of  sin  ;  it  is  scarcely  possible  that  they  should  not 
become  more  just,  more  solemn,  more  intense,  and  more  effica- 
cious, in  persuading  us  to  confess  and  to  renounce  our  transgres- 
sions. The  more  just  these  views  are,  the  more  powerful  must 
be  their  efficacy.  In  the  mind  of  an  enlightened  christian,  espe- 
cially, they  cannot  fail  to  produce  the  happiest  consequences. 
Such  a  Christian  will  feel  as  Joh  felt ;  and  exclaim  as  he  exclaim- 
ed, "  /  have  heard  of  Thee  by  the  hearing  of  the  ear  ;  but  now 
mine  eye  seeth  Thee.  Wherefore  I  abhor  myself  and  repent 
in  dust  and  ashes.'''' 

REMARKS. 

From  these  observations  we  learn, 

1.  The  Reason,  why  the  great  body  of  mankind  have  so  im- 
perfect a  sense  of  their  sins  ;  viz.  they  have  no  just,  solemn, 
constant  apprehensions  of  the  character  and  presence  of  God. 

They  have  very  few  and  very  feeble  apprehensions  of  the  Char- 
acter of  God.  Let  me  address  this  consideration  directly  to  this 
assembly.  When  most  of  you,  like  most  of  your  fellow-crea- 
tures, think  of  God  at  all ;  is  it  not  true  that  you  think  of  him 
only  as  a  Being,  who,  although  in  various  attributes  superior  to 
yomselves,  very  much  resembles  you  in  other  respects  ?  Do  you 
not  feel  that  he  made  you  solely,  or  at  least  supremely,  to  pro- 
mote your  own  enjoyment,  or  in  plainer  English,  the  gratifica- 
tion of  your  passions  and  appetites  ?  Do  you  not  feel,  that  as  he 
has  created,  so  he  is  bound  to  provide  for  you,  and  that  chiefly, 
as  your  own  pleasure  dictates  ?  and  that  all  the  obligation  lies  on 
him  to  bestow,  while  your  whole  concern  is  to  receive  and  enjoy? 
Whenever  you  perceive  or  mistrust  any  defect,  or  any  fault,  in 
your  conduct,  is  it  not  the  habitual  course  of  your  thoughts  to 
charge  it  upon  him,  and  to  clear  yourselves  ? 

Do  you  realize  that  he  made  you,  that  he  preserves  you,  that 
you  live  solely  on  his  bounty,  that  he  is  your  Lord,  that  he  is 


S ER.  I]      OF  GOD  A  SOURCE  OF  REPENTANCE.  ] 3 

your  Judge,  that  he  will  be  your  Rewarder  beyond  the  grave  ? 
All  these  things  you  may,  I  acknowledge  admit  as  a  conclusion 
from  premises  which  you  cannot  deny.  The  great  question, 
here  intended,  is  ;  do  they  come  home  to  your  hearts,  with  a 
solemn  conviction  of  their  reality  ?  If  you  realized  them,  could 
you  live  as  you  have  lived  ?  Do  you  not,  on  the  contrary,  habit- 
ually feel  that  you  are  your  own  property  ;  made  for  yourselves, 
and  not  for  his  service  ?  that,  when  he  does  not  satisfy  the  de- 
mands of  your  passions  and  appetites,  he  is  unjust ;  that,  when  he 
interferes  with  your  concerns,  he  is  arbitrary  ;  and,  that  when  he 
aflicts  you,  he  is  odious  ?  And  do  not  all  these  wretched  conclu- 
sions flow  from  false,  loose,  and  solitary  apprehensions  of  his 
character  ? 

Are  you  not  equally  destitute  of  any  just  apprehensions  con- 
cernmg  his  Presence  ?  When  you  lie  down,  do  you  remember, 
that  he  only  keeps  your  habitations  from  the  flames,  or  preserves 
you  from  death  ?  When  you  awake,  do  you  call  to  mind  that,  if 
God  had  not  awaked  you,  you  would  have  slept  the  final  sleep, 
and  your  eyes  never  have  opened  again  upon  the  light  of  the  liv- 
ing ?  When  you  eat,  do  you  perceive  whose  hand  spreads  your 
table,  and  fills  your  hearts  with  food  and  gladness  ?  When  you 
profane  his  name,  do  you  remember  that  he  hears  ?  When  your 
imagmation  loosely  roves  after  impure  and  gross  objects,  do  you 
mistrust  that  he  sees  ?  Have  you  even  dreamed  that  God  entered 
at  first  the  secret  chambers  of  your  souls  ;  and  that  he  dwells 
there,  beholding  with  an  awful  survey  all  your  forgetfulness  of 
him,  your  violations  of  his  law,  your  abuse  of  his  grace,  your  de- 
votion Xothe  lust  of  thefesh,  the  lust  of  the  eyes,  and  the  pride 
of  life  ?  He  has  numbered  your  prayers.  What,  think  you,  will 
be  the  amount,  when  that  number  is  rehearsed  at  the  final  day  ? 
He  has  inhabited  your  closets.  How  many  times  has  he  seen 
you  visit  those  sacred  recesses,  to  converse  with  him  ?  He  has 
met  you  in  his  house.  Have  you  found  him  there  ?  Had  you 
truly  seen  his  presence,  could  you  have  sent  your  thoughts  on 
vain  and  sinful  excursions  to  the  ends  of  the  earth  ?  Could  you 
have  laughed,  and  whispered,  and  wantoned,  away  the  ffolden 

Vol.  n.  3 


14    A  JUST  SENSE  OF  THE  CHARACTER  AND  PRESENCE     [SER.  I. 

hours  of  salvation  ?  Could  you  have  slept  before  the  mercy-seat ; 
and  dozed  away  your  accepted  time  at  the  foot  of  the  cross  ?  The 
Sabbath  is  the  day,  the  Sanctuary  is  the  house,  of  God.  Both 
were  instituted,  to  bring  you  directly  into  his  presence.  Has  this 
ever  been  their  effect  ?  Have  you  not  even  here  felt,  that  God 
was  afar  off,  in  an  unknown  and  distant  country  called  heaven  ; 
where  he  was  wholly  occupied  with  his  own  concerns,  and  had 
neither  leisure  nor  inclination,  to  attend  to  you  ?  Upon  how  ma- 
ny Sabbaths  can  you  look  back  with  comfort,  or  even  with  hope  ? 
Is  there  one,  the  transactions  of  which  you  would  be  willing  to 
have  rehearsed  at  the  day  of  judgment,  or  made  the  ground  of 
your  future  reward  ? 

Could  you  daily  and  hourly  say,  "  Thou  God  seest  we,"  and 
feel  what  you  said,  would  it  be  possible  for  you  to  be  so  quiet ;  so 
hardened  ;  so  stupid  in  your  sins  1  Could  you  go  on  so  quietly 
towards  the  miseries  of  perdition  ?  Could  you  so  gaily,  so  spor- 
tively, see  the  distance  between  you  and  heaven  become  every 
day  greater  and  greater  ?  Would  you  not  tremble  at  the  thought 
of  provoking  afresh  the  anger  of  this  great  and  terrible  Being  ? 
Would  not  your  instinctive  language,  at  the  sight  of  every  temp- 
tation, at  the  approach  of  every  sin,  be  :  "  How  can  I  do  this 
great  wickedness,  and  sin  against  God  ?''"' 

Remember,  that  in  all  this  conduct  you  are  inexcusable.  To 
realize  the  presence  of  God  is  absolutely  in  your  power.  It  de- 
mands no  supernatural  assistance,  any  more  than  to  think  or  to 
feel,  to  study  or  to  labour. 

2.  Let  me  urge  upon  the  sinners  in  this  house  the  great  duty  of 
bringing  home  to  their  hearts  the  character,  and  presence,  of  God. 

If  you  are  ever  to  have  a  just  sense  of  your  sins  ;  you  must  de- 
rive it  from  this  source.  All  our  obligations  to  obey  God  arise 
from  his  character,  as  a  Being  of  supreme  perfection  ;  and  from 
the  fact,  that  we  are  indebted  to  him  for  our  existence,  and  for 
all  its  blessings  and  hopes ;  from  the  perfect  nature  of  his  law, 
and  its  absolute  tendency  to  glorify  him,  and  to  produce  the  com- 
plete happiness  of  his  immense  and  eternal  kingdom.  Of  such 
importance  is  this  tendency,  as  to  justify  the  declaration  on  his 


8ER.  I.]  OF  GOD  A  SOURCE  OF  REPENTANCE.  15 

part,  that  heaven  and  earth  shall  sooner  pass  away,  than  one  jot ^ 
or  one  title,  of  the  law  shall  fail,  until  all  shall  he  fulfilled.  In 
proportion  to  these  things  is  the  guilt  of  sin  great  and  terrible. 

But  this  truth  cannot  be  felt,  unless  you  bring  home  to  your 
hearts  the  character  and  presence  of  your  Creator.  Were  this 
duty  done,  you  could  no  longer  be  at  ease  in  Zion ;  no  longer  se- 
cure and  light  minded  in  your  iniquity,  and  gay  on  the  brink  of 
destruction.  It  is  because  God  is  not  in  all  your  thoughts,  that 
you  do  not  fee  from  the  wrath  to  come,  and  lay  hold  on  eter- 
nal life. 

When  the  Israelites,  at  the  foot  of  Mount  Sinai,  beheld  the 
presence  of  God  in  clear  view,  all  the  people  that  were  in  the 
camp  trembled ;  and  earnestly  besought  him,  that  he  would  speak 
to  them  no  more,  except  by  the  mouth  of  Moses.  But  a  few 
days  afterwards,  they  made  a  molten  calf,  and  worshipped  it ; 
and  sacrificed  thereunto  ;  and  said,  "  These  are  thy  Gods,  O  Is- 
rael, which  have  brought  thee  up  out  of  the  landof  Egypt.''"'  The 
reason  of  this  otherwise  inexplicable  conduct  was  nothing  else, 
but  that  they  had  forgotten  God  their  Saviour,  who  had  done 
such  great  things  in  Egypt.  All  other  sinners  are,  in  these  re- 
spects, exact  copies  of  the  Israelites.  Whenever  they  bring  the 
Divine  character  and  presence  to  their  hearts,  they  begin  to  see 
their  sins  in  some  measure  as  they  are ;  they  learn  their  true 
character ;  they  open  their  eyes  upon  their  guilt ;  they  tremble 
at  their  danger.  But  when,  as  is  the  usual  fact,  God  is  not  in  all 
their  thoughts,  they  become  secure  ;  bold ;  strong;  impious  ;  re- 
gardless of  sin  and  hell,  of  holiness  and  salvation,  of  God  and 
their  own  souls.  The  language  of  their  hearts,  if  not4«f  their 
lips,  is,  "  To  morrow  shall  be  as  this  day,  and  much  more  abun- 
dant.''"' "  yVho  is  the  Almighty,  that  we  should  serve  him  ?  or 
what  profit  shnll  we  have,  if  we  pray  unto  him  ?"'"'  All  the  differ- 
ence, between  the  most  hopeful  thoughts  and  emotions,  in  the 
mind  of  a  convinced  sinner,  and  the  most  hopeless  circumstan- 
ces of  a  stupid  impenitent,  may  be  explained,  by  the  existence, 
and  the  want  of,  a  solemn,  proper,  and  affecting  sense  of  the 
character  and  presence  of  God.    What  a  mad  maa  is  he,  then, 


IQ     A  JUST  SENSE  OF  THE  CHARACTER  AND  PRESENCE     [SER.  !. 

who  forces  this  awful  but  immensely  profitable  subject  out  of  his 
mind  ;  and  who  is  satisfied  to  go  to  perdition,  if  he  may  only  have 
a  smooth  and  quiet  passage  ! 

3.  Let  me  urge  this  great  duty,  also,  upon  the  Christians  in 
this  assembly. 

You,  my  brethren,  are  no  less  bound  to  advance  in  holiness,  than 
sinners  are  to  become  holy :  for  both  these  duties  are  enjoined  by 
the  same  authority.  At  the  same  time,  there  is  a  law  in  your 
members,  ivarring  continually  against  the  law  in  your  minds,  and 
bringing  you  under  captivity  to  the  law  of  sin,  which  is  in  your 
members.  You,  like  all  other  Christians,  are  perpetually  prone 
to  forget  God,  your  duty,  and  your  salvation.  All  these,  let  me 
exhort  you  to  remember,  are  forgotten  together.  The  world 
takes  their  place.  Sin  resumes  its  power.  Temptations  crowd 
upon  the  soul ;  transgression  succeeds ;  our  duty  is  feebly  done, 
or  left  undone  ;  and  the  door  is  opened  wide  for  repentance  and 
sorrow. 

Purity  of  life  is  maintained,  and  improvement  in  hoHness  ac- 
quired, only  by  a  constant  and  lively  sense  of  the  presence  of  God, 
He  is  the  sovereign,  who  demands  this  character  of  us.  No  oth- 
er being  is  lord  of  the  conscience  :  no  other  being  can  direct  the 
faith,  or  enjoin  the  duty,  of  Intelligent  creatures. 

He  is  always  present  to  see  whether  we  obey,  or  refuse  to  obey^ 
this  solemn  requisition.  What  he  sees,  he  records ;  whether  it 
be  good,  or  whether  it  be  evil. 

By  what  solemn  obligations,  then,  by  what  amazing  interests, 
are  you  bound  to  realize  his  presence ;  and  to  remember  that  his 
all-searching  eye  is  open,  day  and  night,  with  an  awful  survey^ 
upon  your  hearts,  and  upon  your  lives.  A  clear  apprehension  of 
this  truth  cannot  fail  deeply  to  affect  your  minds ;  to  take  strong 
hold  on  your  hearts ;  to  prevent,  or  drive  away,  temptation ;  to 
rouse  you  from  sloth,  and  sleep ;  and  to  awaken  you  to  the  dan- 
gers of  this  seducing  world.  When  God  is  before  your  eyes,  can 
you  fail  to  remember  the  riches  of  his  grace  ?  the  wonders  of  re- 
deeming, forgiving,  and  sanctifying  love  ?  the  solemnity  of  the 
Covenant,  in  which  you  have  consecrated  yourselves  to  his  ser- 


SER.  I]  OF  GOD  A  SOURCE  OF  REPENTANCE.  17 

\ice  ?  and  your  mighty,  as  well  as  endearing,  obligations  to  ])urify 
yourselves,  even  as  he  is  pure  ?  When  God  is  before  your  eyes, 
can  you  fail  to  remember  how  delightful  it  is  to  please  him  ;  how 
odious  to  dishonoui  him ;  how  mischievous,  how  painful,  to 
wound  Religion,  and  pierce  the  hearts  of  your  fellow  Christians  ? 
In  the  presence  of  this  awful  Being  how  can  your  sins  fail  to  ap- 
pear in  their  black  and  proper  colours  ?  How  can  they  fail  of  be- 
ing detested,  renounced,  and,  in  a  good  degree,  forsaken  X  A 
constant  dread  of  sinning  will,  therefore,  seize  upon  your  hearts, 
and  become  a  governing  principle  of  your  moral  conduct. 

To  forget,  or  to  be  insensible  of,  the  presence  of  God,  is  to  lose 
sight  of  your  best  good ;  to  weaken  your  sense  of  duty;  and  to 
expose  yourselves  to  every  temptation.  Had  David  remembered 
this  glorious  and  awful  Being  ;  had  he  called  to  mind  the  just  and 
sublime  thoughts,  which  he  has  uttered  in  the  cxxxix  Psalm ; 
when  he  commenced  the  career  of  his  iniquity  with  Bathsheha ; 
what  a  long  train  of  dreadful  crimes,  what  a  long  course  of  bit- 
ter repentance,  what  a  melancholy  series  of  excruciating  distres- 
ses, would  have  been  prevented  !  Had  Peter  remembered  the 
inspection  of  the  all-seeing  eye,  he  would  not  have  denied  his 
Lord ;  the  pages  of  the  Gospel  would  not  have  been  stained  by 
the  record  of  his  fall ;  and  his  own  soul  would  have  been  saved 
from  the  anguish  of  many  sorrows.  The  nature  of  these  is  the 
nature  of  all  good  men.  In  themselves  weak,  frail,  and  back-sli- 
ding, they  have  no  safety  but  in  God.  But  where  shall  we  find  a 
promise,  that  this  Divine  Protector  will  extend  his  guardianship 
to  any  man,  at  seasons,  in  which  He  is  forgotten.  Were  it  possi- 
ble for  the  inhabitants  of  heaven  to  cease  from  a  consciousness 
of  the  presence  of  God,  there  is  reason  to  fear  that  they  would 
cease,  also,  from  their  unspotted  virtue. 

To  prompt  and  to  aid  mankind  to  the  performance  of  the  duty, 
enjoined  in  this  discourse,  is  one  of  the  great  benefits,  intended 
by  the  worship  instituted  in  the  Gospel.  The  sanctuary  derives 
its  importance,  its  solemnity,  its  sacred  character,  not  from  the 
splendour  with  which  it  may  be  built,  nor  from  the  rites  with 
which  it  may  be  consecrated,  but  from  its  Diviije  Inhabitant.     On 


18      A  JUST  SENSE  OF  THE  CHARACTER  AND  PRESENCE     [SER.  I. 

the  door-posts,  on  the  altar,  of  every  temple,  every  Christian 
should  read  the  name  of  the  city,  seen  in  vision  by  Ezekiel,  '■'■  Je- 
hovah is  here.''''  "  Surely,"  said  Jacobs  ^'■Jehovah  is  in  this  place; 
and  I  knew  it  not.  How  awful  is  this  place  !  It  is  none  other 
than  the  house  of  God,  and  the  gate  of  heaven.''''  Hither  we 
come  to  see  his  face,  and  seek  his  favour ;  to  confess  our  sins, 
and  supplicate  his  mercy.  Here  he  meets  us  to  pity,  to  forgive, 
to  bless,  and  to  save.  All  our  transactions,  here,  are  with  God ; 
and  irresistibly  bring  this  glorious  Being  immediately  before  our 
eyes.  Every  good  man,  every  man  in  whom  piet}  is  alive,  will 
feel,  therefore,  as  a  pious  Israelite  felt  when  he  stood  before  the 
cloud  in  the  Temple,  from  the  bosom  of  which  the  awful  voice  of 
Jehovah  answered  the  prayers  of  his  people,  and  uttered  the 
oracles  of  life. 

From  the  house  of  God  these  solemn  apprehensions  are  car- 
ried with  us  to  our  own  habitations.  They  revive,  they  are  invig- 
orated, in  the  morning  and  evening  sacrifice.  But  they  are  espe- 
cially quickened  in  the  closet.  From  this  sacred  retreat  the 
world  is  shut  out.  No  earthly  eye  looks  on :  no  earthly  object 
intrudes.  Here  we  bow  before  our  Maker,  and  converse  with 
him  face  to  face.  Our  souls  are  naked  before  him.  Our  hves 
pass  in  review  ;  our  sins  are  set  in  the  light  of  his  countenance  ; 
our  penitence,  our  faith,  our  love,  our  comforts,  and  our  hopes. 
God,  thus  intimately  seen  in  this  private  temple,  is  seen  through 
the  day,  till  we  revisit  the  same  solemn  recess,  and  again  con- 
verse with  our  maker.  Thus,  a  sense  of  the  divine  presence  be- 
comes the  habitual  and  controlling  state  of  our  minds. 

Thus  aided,  thus  cultivated,  the  good  man  learns  to  find  God 
in  all  places,  and  in  all  things.  This  great  Being  becomes  pres- 
ent to  him  in  every  enjoyment,  which  he  shares  ;  in  every  afflic- 
tion, which  he  suffers ;  in  every  hope,  which  he  indulges  ;  and  in 
every  advancement,  which  he  makes  in  the  Christian  life.  To 
the  eye  of  such  a  man  Jehovah  is  present,  lives,  and  acts,  in  all 
the  works  of  his  hands.  His  smile  is  the  beauty  of  the  spring ; 
his  breath  its  fragrance.  His  hand  pours  out  the  riches  of  the 
summer,  and  the  bounty  of  autumn.     The  thunder  is  his  voice : 


SER.  I.]  OF  GOD  A  SOURCE  OF  REPENTANCE.  1 9 

lightnings  are  his  arrows.  He  makes  the  clouds  his  chariot ;  he 
rides  upon  the  whirlwind.  The  earth  is  his  footstool :  the  heav- 
ens are  his  throne.  In  the  sun,  the  brightest  material  image  of 
his  exahation,  immutabihty,  and  glory,  he  gives  light,  and  hfe, 
and  comfort,  to  the  unnumbered  millions  of  animated  creatures ; 
and  holds  out  to  the  eye  of  the  mind  a  magnificent  symbol  of 
heaven's  everlasting  day.  Thus,  every  where,  he  lives,  controls, 
and  smiles  in  all  the  works  of  his  hand. 

In  his  Word  he  is  seen  in  diviner  forms.  There  his  goodness 
and  mercy,  beam  with  a  mild  and  soft,  but  immeasurable  glory, 
in  the  face  of  the  Redeemer.  There  his  voice  is  heard  in  the  awful 
threatenings  of  his  law,  and  the  delightful  promises  of  his  Gospel. 
There  he  shines,  a  moral  sun,  into  the  soul ;  and  awakens  in  it 
the  life,  which  shall  never  die.  Animated,  comforted,  invigo- 
rated with  hope  and  joy,  the  Christian  draws  nearer  and  nearer 
to  God,  and  beholds  him  in  clearer  and  brighter  view,  until  his 
soul,  entering  the  regions  of  eternal  rest,  opens  its  eyes  upon  the 
glories  of  heaven,  and  is  admitted  to  behold  his  face  in  right- 
eousness forever  and  ever. — Amen. 


SERMON  II. 

THE  YOUNG  EXHORTED  TO  SOBRIETY  OF  MmD 

Titus  ii.  6. 
Young  men,  likewise,  exhort  to  be  sober-minded. 

In  the  first  verse  of  this  chapter,  Titus  is  directed  by  St.  Paul 
to  speak,  while  performing  the  duties  of  his  ministry,  the  things, 
which  become  sound  doctrine.  Of  such  things  there  is  given  in 
the  following  verses  a  catalogue ;  distributed  into  several  divis- 
ions, and  directed  to  several  classes  of  mankind.  The  duties  of 
the  aged,  and  of  the  young,  are  summarily  pointed  out ;  as  are 
also  the  obligations  of  Titus  to  enforce  them  by  his  own  authori- 
tative injunctions. 

The  particular  character,  which  he  is  required  to  urge  upon 
young  m.en,  is  Sobriety  of  mind. 

The  original  word,  cwfpw«i/,  denotes,  in  its  primitive  sense, 
soundness  of  mind^  in  opposition  to  madness,  or  distraction.  In 
this  manner  it  is  extensively  used  by  Greek  classical  writers,  as 
the  proper  contrast  to  (iMvsaeav,  which  signifies  to  be  mad,  or  de- 
lirious ;  and  to  this  sense  we  are  directed  by  the  original  words, 
of  which  the  term  is  compounded. 

But,  as  soundness  of  mind,  thus  understood,  and  madness,  are 
not  at  all  dependent  on  our  moral  efforts,  they  cannot  be  the 
subjects  of  commands,  or  exhortations.  The  word,  a^^ovitv,  there- 
fore, is,  here,  undoubtedly  used  figuratively :  the  only  manner,  in 
which,  so  far  as  I  have  observed,  it  is  ever  used  in  the  Scrip- 
tures. 

.    In  selecting  this  passage  of  Scripture  as  the  theme  of  discourse, 
it  is  my  design, 

I.  To  enquire  what  is  meant  by  being  Sober-minded  ^ 


SER.  II.]  THE  YOUNG  EXHORTED,  &c.  21 

II.  To  suggest  some  Reasons  for  the  adoption  of  this  charac- 
ter by  the  Youths  who  are  before  me. 

I.  /  shall  enquire  what  is  meant  by  being  Sober-minded. 

In  answer  to  this  enquiry  I  observe  in  the 

1st  place,  Sobriety  of  mind  denotes  that  habitual  state,  in  which 
we  are  prone  to  estimate  things  according  to  their  real  Value. 

The  members  of  the  Corinthian  church  were  very  desirous  of 
those  miraculous  gifts,  which,  during  the  Apostolic  age,  so  much 
engrossed  the  attention,  and  awakened  the  astonishment  of 
mankind.  Particularly,  they  coveted  the  gift  of  speaking  with 
tongues ;  because  it  engaged  this  attention,  and  produced  this 
astonishment,  in  a  peculiar  degree  ;  and  rendered  those,  who 
possessed  it,  objects  of  distinguished  admiration  and  applause. 
Yet  St.  Paul  solemnly  declares  to  these  Christians,  that  he  would 
rather  speak  fine  words  in  the  church  with  his  understanding y 
than  ten  thousand  words  in  an  unknown  tongue.  What  was  the 
ground  of  this  decision  ?  St.  Paul  himself  has  told  us.  "  In  the 
church,''''  he  says,  "  /  would  rather  speak  five  words  with  my  un- 
derstanding, that  by  my  voice  I  might  teach  others  also,  than  ten 
thousand  words  in  an  unknown  tongue  :"  as  it  is  rendered  by  Dr. 
Macknight,  "  /  would  rather  speak  five  words  with  my  meaning 
understood,  that  I  might  instruct  others  also.''^  Nothing  could 
with  more  force  teach  us,  that  St.  Paul,  under  the  direction  of 
God,  felt  himself  bound  to  estimate  every  thing,  whether  natural, 
supernatural,  or  moral,  according  to  its  Utility ;  or,  in  other 
words,  according  to  its  real  Value. 

To  this  complete  decision  of  the  Scriptures,  Common  sense 
joins  her  strongest  attestation.  No  man  is  ever  pronounced  wise 
by  the  dispassionate  voice  of  his  fellow  men,  who  does  not  esti- 
mate things  in  this  manner,  and  who  does  not  regularly  prove  by 
his  conduct,  that  this  is  his  habitual  mode  of  judging. 

I  will  illustrate  the  subject  by  examples. 

The  value  of  Business,  that  is,  of  such  as  is  honest  and  useful, 
is  incomparably  greater  than  that  oi  Amusements,  or  what  is  ap- 
propriately styled  Pleasure.  Business,  wisely  followed,  procures 
for  us  property,  knowledge,  the  capacity  of  being  useful  to  our- 

Voi,.  II.  4 


22  1'HE  YOUNG  EXHORTED  [SER  11 

selves  and  others,  reputation,  comfort,  and  many  other  blessings. 
Amusements  procure  none  of  these  blessings ;  but  either  prevent, 
or  destroy,  them  all ;  and  have  no  other  value,  even  when  inno- 
cent, and  confined  within  rational  bounds,  except  as  they  yield 
us  a  trifling  degree  of  enjoyment,  or  as  they  invigorate  us  for  fu- 
ture business.  When  they  are  immoderate,  or  in  their  nature 
sinful ;  they  are  only  pernicious. 

Still  we  find  a  multitude  of  youths,  and  among  them  many  of 
those  who  are  present,  consider  their  amusements  as  of  very 
great  value ;  and  their  business  as  of  very  little.  The  appropri- 
ate business  of  these  youths  is  the  acquisition  of  knowledge ;  of 
knowledge  highly  valuable  in  itself,  and  invaluable  as  the  means 
of  future  usefulness  to  themselves  and  others.  This  preference 
does  not  spring  from  sobriety  of  mind.  It  does  not  accord  with 
the  dictates  of  a  sound,  uncorrupted  understanding.  It  is  hostile 
to  the  true  interests  of  the  man,  by  whom  it  is  made;  and  has 
cut  off  thousands  and  milHons  of  youths  from  knowledge^  prop- 
erty, reputation,  comfort,  and  hope ;  and  plunged  them  in  dis- 
grace, beggary,  and  ruin.  Surely  such  a  mode  of  estimating 
things  is  not  the  result  of  soundness  of  mind.  The  judgmentj 
here  exercised,  is  that  of  a  mind,  whose  faculties  are  disordered, 
whose  optics  are  bedimmed,  whose  vision  is  disturbed  or  ob- 
scured. 

The  preparation  for  business,  and  all  the  means  of  accomplish- 
ing it,  being  indispensable  to  its  existence,  have  exactly  the  same 
value.  Study  is  the  preparation  for  knowledge,  and  knowledge 
is  the  indispensable  means  of  useful  business,  to  the  youths  in 
this  assembly.  To  prefer  amusement  to  study  is  a  proof,  that 
the  mind  is  disordered,  which  is  exactly  of  the  same  nature.  Not 
indeed,  that  it  is  disordered  by  that  kind  of  delirium,  in  which  the 
violent  passions  predominate,  and  the  miserable  subject  of  it  is 
tossed  by  wrath,  revenge,  and  fury ;  but  of  the  kind,  which  is 
gay  and  sportive,  engrossed  by  trifles  and  gewgaws,  and  blown 
about  by  a  spirit  of  frivolity.  Happy  would  it  be  for  mankind, 
if  this  species  of  madness  were  never  found  without  the  walls  of 
befilalm.  Happy  would  it  probably  be  for  some  of  those  who  are 
before  me,  if  it  were'not  found  within  the  walls  of  this  seminary. 


SER.  IL]  TO  SOBRIETY  OF  MIND.  23 

Eternal  things  are  of  more  value  than  temporal  things.  The 
soul  is  more  valuable  than  the  body ;  as  an  immortal  being  capa- 
ble of  endless  knowledge,  virtue,  and  enjoyment,  is  of  more  value 
than  a  mass  of  dirt.  Heaven  is  better  than  this  miserable  world. 
The  sufferings  of  perdition  are  moie  numerous,  and  more  dis- 
tressing, than  any,  which  are  undergone  by  piety,  in  its  struggles 
to  secure  the  everlasting  love  of  God.  Eternity  is  more  enduring 
than  time ;  and  our  future  being,  for  all  these  reasons,  of  higher 
importance  than  our  present  existence.  To  realize  these  truths, 
according  to  their  solemnity  and  importance,  is  in  this  respect  to 
have  a  sober  mind.  But  to  prefer  this  world  to  that  which  is  to 
come,  and  our  present  enjoyments  to  those  which  are  future ;  or 
to  esteem  the  sufferings  of  this  life  of  more  consequence  than 
those  which  lie  beyond  the  grave  ;  is  the  strongest  proof,  which 
can  be  given,  of  a  mind  unsound,  possessing  a  perverted  judg- 
ment, deciding  without  evidence  or  in  opposition  to  it,  and  bewil- 
dered by  false  lights,  and  a  diseased  vision. 

The  performance  of  our  duty  is  the  true  preparation  for  eter- 
nal life,  and  the  indispensable  means  of  obtaining  it.  Its  value 
therefore  to  us,  is  the  same,  as  that  of  the  life  itself.  Yet  ho\y 
many  of  those,  who  are  before  me,  in  all  probability  prefer  to  the 
performance  of  their  own  duty  what  they,  and  others  like  them, 
call  pleasure :  a  thing,  which  hitherto,  instead  of  doing  them  real 
good,  has  only  done  them  harm :  a  poison,  swallowed  because  it 
has  been  sugared.  How  unsound,  how  remote  from  sobriety, 
will  this  preference  seem,  when  we  enter  the  world  of  spirits. 

2.  Sobriety  of  mind  includes  an  exact,  and  habitual  control  of 
our  affections  ;  particularly  of  those,  which  are  customarily  de- 
nominated passions,  and  appetites. 

All  persons,  who  have  arrived  at  adult  years,  and  have  obser- 
ved the  characters  of  men  with  any  attention,  have  seen,  and  of- 
ten with  astonishment,  different  individuals,  judging  not  only  dif- 
ferently from  each  other,  but  in  modes  directly  opposite ;  where 
the  subjects,  and  the  evidence,  were  exactly  the  same,  and  equal- 
ly in  the  possession  of  all.  This  diversity  cannot  be  the  result 
of  mere  understanding.     Among  the  proofs,  which  are  abundant- 


24  THE  YOUNG  EXHORTED  [SER.  It 

ly  furnished  of  this  truth,  a  decisive  one  is,  that,  where  we  have 
exactly  the  same  means  of  judging,  and  are  entirely  uninterested, 
or  have  exactly  the  same  interest,  we  judge  in  the  same  manner. 
The  cases,  in  which  we  judge  differently,  (the  same  evidence  be-- 
ing  in  our  possession,)  are  those,  in  which  we  are  interested  to 
judge  differently.  Our  passions  and  appetites  in  such  cases  in- 
fluence, and  often  absolutely  control,  our  judgment.  This  influ- 
ence is  the  great  evil,  under  which  we  labour  in  all  those  intellec- 
tual decisions,  which  respect  subjects,  of  any  serious  importance 
to  what  we  think  our  own  good.  We  judge  in  modes,  directly 
opposite  to  each  other  ;  with  slender  evidence,  with  no  evidence; 
and  in  direct  opposition  to  all  evidence.  Of  this  truth  he,  who 
looks  even  with  slight  attention  at  the  political  and  religious  di- 
visions of  mankind,  existing  every  where,  and  in  every  age,  will 
ask  for  no  additional  proof.  All  doctrines  have  had  their  parti- 
zans ;  and  the  worst  doctrines,  and  the  grossest  absurdities,  have 
had  more  numerous  supporters  than  truth  and  righteousness 
could  ever  boast.  Mankind  have  arrayed  themselves  in  great 
numbers,  not  only  on  the  side  of  the  calves  in  Bethel  and  Dan^ 
and  the  bull  of  Egypt,  but  of  cats  also,  and  frogs,  and  flies, 
blocks  of  wood,  and  images  of  stone.  They  have  worshipped 
Moloch,  and  Juggernaut ;  the  worst  of  men ;  and  even  demons. 
The  most  abandoned  profligates  of  the  human  race  have  mul- 
tiplied their  trains  of  devotees.  Crowds  have  attached  them- 
selves to  Jeroboam,  Nero,  Charles  the  second,  and  Napoleon. 
More  than  three  fourths  of  the  human  race  are  now,  and  ever 
have  been,  either  Heathen,  or  Mahommedans.  A  few  of  the 
leaders,  in  each  case,  have  probably  seen  the  absurdity  of  the 
opinions,  adopted  by  the  train  of  their  followers.  The  great 
mass,  and  among  them  many  persons  of  understanding,  have 
judged,  as  well  as  acted  in  accordance  with  their  professed  opin- 
ions. But  no  errors  can  be  more  monstrous,  or  more  mischievous, 
than  these.  Passion  and  appetite,  therefore,  influence  men  to 
judge,  and  conclude,  and  that  every  where,  in  favour  of  the 
worst  of  errors. 


SER.  II.]  TO  SOBRIETY  OF  MIND.  25 

All  our  passions  and  appetites  have  this  influence  :  pride,  vani- 
ty, ambition,  avarice,  voluptuousness,  prodigality,  sloth  together 
with  those,  which  are  appropriately  called  affections  of  the  mind, 
such  as  love  and  hatred,  hope  and  fear,  joy  and  sorrow.  These 
causes  of  our  unhappy  judgments  are  very  numerous  and  power- 
ful ;  are  always  at  hand  ;  and  exert  their  efficacy  with  respect  to 
every  subject,  in  which  we  are  interested. 

That  this  efficacy  is  most  malignant^  with  regard  to  our  real 
interests^  is  sufficiently  evident  from  what  has  been  already  said. 
If  it  can  persuade  mankind,  that  calves  and  carts,  frogs  and  flies, 
stocks  and  demons,  are  gods  ;  if  it  can  persuade  men  to  sacrifice 
their  fellow  men,  parents  their  children,  and  husbands  their  wives, 
to  their  deities  ;  if  it  can  induce  them  to  renounce  all  connexion 
with  their  Maker,  and  all  hope  of  his  favour  ;  there  is  no  absur- 
dity, which  it  cannot  persuade  them  to  receive  ;  no  crime,  which 
it  cannot  induce  them  to  perpetrate.  From  reasonable  beings 
it  can  convert  them  into  lunatics  and  fiends. 

By  this  time  my  audience  are  probably  convinced,  that  passion 
and  appetite  exert  a  real,  extensive,  powerful,  dangerous,  and 
malignant  domination  over  our  judgment.  The  consequence 
follows  irresistibly.  If  we  would  escape  from  all  these  mischiefs  ; 
we  must  establish  an  exact,  and  habitual  control  over  our  pas- 
sions and  appetites.  So  long  as  they  govern  our  judgments,  we 
shall  regularly  judge  falsely,  and  be  led  to  the  commission  of  in- 
numerable sins.  In  this  case  we  shall  have  no  soundness  of 
mind.  Our  understandings  will  be  disordered,  as  well  as  our  dis- 
positions ;  our  opinions  will  be  false  ;  our  affections  polluted ; 
and  our  conduct  odious  in  the  sight  of  God.  In  a  word,  all 
these  things,  will  be,  as  we  actually  find  them.  Our  judgments 
will  be  false,  our  opinions  absurd,  and  our  actions  criminal,  just 
as  we  see  those  of  others,  and  just  as  ours  have  been  heretofore. 

3.  Sobriety  of  mind  includes,  or  perhaps  more  properly  infers, 
that  Conduct  which  springs  of  course  from  the  character,  already 
described. 

Whatever  we  highly  value,  when  it  is  within  our  reach,  we  dil- 
igently pursue.     Useful  business^  and  real  religion,  are  always 


26  THE  YOUNG  EXHORTED  [SER.  II 

within  oui-  reach,  in  such  a  sense  that  they  may  be  hopefully  pur- 
sued. Every  man  of  this  character  will  be  regularly  found  ac- 
ting diligently  in  useful  business.  To  religion  he  will  give  the 
place,  and  importance  in  his  pursuits,  which  it  holds  in  his  judg- 
ment. He,  who  possesses  sobriety  of  mind  in  such  a  manner,  as 
it  can  be  possessed  by  one,  who  is  not  a  Christian,  will  be  awake, 
and  aiive,  to  the  attainment  of  Christianity.  To  all  the  means 
of  instruction,  and  impression,  which  he  thinks  will  enlighten  his 
understanding,  or  affect  his  heart,  he  will  betake  himself  with 
anxiety,  dihgence  and  perseverance.  If  the  subject  of  this 
character  be  already  a  Christian  ;  he  will  labour  with  all  earn- 
estness to  make  his  calling  and  election  sure.  His  efforts  no 
length  of  time  will  lessen,  no  arguments  delay,  no  difficulties 
discourage,  and  no  obstacles  overcome.  His  face  will  be  set 
as  a  flint,  in  the  pursuit  of  this  great  object ;  and  when  death 
arrives,  he  will  be  found  vigorously  engaged  in  the  solemn  em- 
ployment. 

This,  if  I  mistake  not,  is  peculiarly  the  character,  here  inten- 
ded by  St.  Paul  ;  as  being  the  end  for  which  sobriety  of  mind 
is  chiefly  valuable.  In  whatever  form  it  exists,  it  is  no  other 
than  such  a  temperament  of  the  soul,  as  leads  us  to  regard  the 
various  things,  with  which  we  are  conversant,  agreeably  to 
their  importance ;  and  to  act  accordingly :  a  temperament,  re- 
sulting more  from  the  disposition  than  from  the  understanding: 
and  existing  therefore  as  perfectly,  and  as  often,  where  the  intel- 
lect is  hmited,  as  where  it  is  great.  The  man,  in  whom  it  exists, 
gives  the  business  of  life,  as  I  have  observed,  a  higher  place  in 
his  estimation  than  its  amusements ;  and  the  great  interests  of 
mankind,  than  their  ordinary  ones  ;  those  of  the  soul,  than  those 
of  the  body  ;  and  those  of  the  future,  than  those  of  the  present 
world.  This  regard  is  not  mere,  cold,  uninterested  speculations  ; 
but  a  combination  of  thought  and  reflection,  influencing  the 
heart  and  the  life.  The  sober  minded  man  does  not  think,  and 
reason,  pnly ;  but  feels  also,  and  acts  ;  as  the  comparative  impor- 
tance of  the  objects  with  which  he  is  concerned,  demands. 


SER.  II.]  TO  SOBRIETY  OF  MIND.  27 

As  the  soul  is  infinitely  more  valuable  than  the  body  ;  as  eter- 
nity is  immeasurably  more  important  than  time  ;  the  sober  min- 
ded man  will  bend  all  his  attention  to  the  concerns  of  the  soul, 
and  all  his  efforts  to  the  attainment  of  a  happy  eternity.  Noth- 
ing will  stand  between  him  and  the  exertions,  necessary  to  se- 
cure an  interest  in  the  everlasting  love  of  God. 

In  this  amazing  pursuit  Sobriety  of  mind  is  peculiarly  mani- 
fested. Useful  and  commendable  in  all  cases,  it  is  here  pecuUar- 
ly  useful  and  honourable. 

The  man,  who  possesses  this  character  in  the  happy  and 
Evangelical  degree,  here  specified,  will  never  be  contented  to 
stop  short  of  the  highest  attainments,  and  the  richest  consola- 
tions, which  can  be  acquired  by  a  life  of  piety.  Originally,  when 
he  betook  himself  to  a  just  and  solemn  consideration  of  the 
things^  which  belonged  to  his  peace^  he  discovered  a  rational, 
stedfast  concern  for  his  salvation  ;  a  realizing  sense  of  his  guilt, 
and  danger  ;  a  high  value  for  an  interest  in  the  Saviour ;  a  su- 
preme regard  to  the  favour  of  God  ;  an  earnest  desire  to  flee 
from  the  wrath  to  come  ;  and  a  settled  determination  to  lay  hold 
on  etertial  life.  All  these  things  appeared  in  him,  not  as  the  im- 
pulse of  sudden  passions,  but  as  the  steady,  vigorous  energy  of 
the  mind  ;  directed  in  this  manner,  from  solid  conviction,  that 
thus  to  act  was  wise,  and  right.  Accordingly,  he  did  not,  like  a 
false  blossom,  make  a  fair  show  for  a  few  days  in  the  spring,  and 
then  fall,  and  wither,  without  yielding  any  fruit.  Far  from  this, 
he  appeared  more  and  more  beautiful,  and  promising,  until  the 
fruits  of  righteousness  succeeded,  and  clustered,  in  abundance. 
After  his  entrance  into  the  kingdom  of  God,  such  a  man  keeps 
the  great  subjects  of  resisting  temptation,  avoiding  sin,  and  ad- 
vancing in  holiness,  ever  in  view.  In  the  pursuit  of  them  he 
neglects  no  means,  and  spares  no  endeavours.  In  his  closet,  at 
his  bible,  in  the  house  of  God,  in  the  company  of  the  wise  and 
good,  in  his  solitary  walks,  and  even  in  the  crowded  haunts  of 
business,  he  labours  faithfully,  and  diligently,  to  groiv  hi  wisdom 
and  in  grace,  and  to  advance  daily  towards  the  heavenly  world, 
and  the  heavenly  character.     Pveliglon,  with  him,  does  not  pro- 


28  THE  YOUNG  EXHORTED  [SER.  II. 

ceed  by  fits  and  starts  ;  now  bursting  with  the  violence  of  a  tor- 
rent, and  now  stagnant  with  the  sluggishness  of  a  pool  ;  at 
sometimes  full  of  earnestness  and  zeal,  and  at  others  absorbed, 
and  lifeless,  in  the  concerns  of  time  and  sense.  It  is  a  flame, 
kindled,  to  burn  steadily  ;  to  shine  always ;  to  grow  brighter, 
the  longer  it  continues ;  until  it  shall  apparently  expire  in  death, 
to  be  lighted  up  again  with  superior  and  immortal  splendour.  I 
do  not  mean,  that  all  Christians  are  alike  possessed  of  this  uni- 
form, and  evenly  improving,  character ;  nor  that  unequal  profes- 
sors, whose  passions  are  suddenly  heated,  and  cooled,  are  not 
often  Christians  ;  nor  that  the  most  uniform  Christians  do  not,  at 
times  shine  feebly,  and  obscurely.  What  I  intend  is,  that  the 
sobriety  of  mind,  enjoined  in  the  text,  is  in  its  nature  such,  as  I 
have  represented  ;  and  that  those,  in  whom  it  most  prevails,  ex- 
hibit most  a  fair  resemblance  to  this  representation.  I  will  now 
proceed, 

II.  To  suggest  several  Reasons  for  the  adoption  of  this  char- 
acter by  the  Youths,  who  are  now  before  me. 

In  the  1st  place.  Owe  of  these  Reasons,  of  vast  importance 
is ;  their  situation  demands  it. 

The  youths,  before  me,  have  entered  upon  the  beginning  of 
eternal  existence  ;  and  will  be  holy  or  sinful,  happy  or  miserable, 
forever.  Each  has  a  soul,  committed  to  his  own  peculiar  care. 
The  value  of  that  soul  is  inconceivable.  It  is  infinite.  The 
world,  nay  the  universe,  weighed  against  it,  is  nothing.  To 
each,  also,  it  is  his  all.  It  claims  therefore,  it  deserves,  all  your 
attention,  all  your  labours,  all  your  prayers.  If  it  is  lost ;  you 
are  undone  forever.  If  it  is  saved ;  you  are  made  rich,  hap- 
py, and  glorious,  throughout  ages  which  will  know  no  end. 
What  situation  can  be  more  solemn  than  this ;  or  can  more  im- 
periously demand  the  combined  exertion  of  all  your  powers  ? 

At  the  same  time  your  earthly  concerns  are  not  to  be  forgot- 
ten. They,  too,  have  their  importance.  To  neglect  them  is 
neither  your  interest,  nor  your  duty.  Happily  for  you,  the  at- 
tention, which  they  really  demand,  is  in  no  degree  inconsistent 
with  the  effectual  promotion  of  your  eternal  welfare.    The  same 


SsER.  II.]  TO  SOBRIETY  OF  MIND.  09 

sobriety  of  mind,  which  is  so  useful  to  the  advancement  of  your 
heavenly  interests,  is  the  direct  means  of  your  earthly  prosperity. 
To  the  acquisition  of  knowledge,  property,  reputation,  and  influ- 
ence, it  is  as  auspicious  as  to  your  holiness,  and  happiness,  be- 
yond the  grave. 

2.  Without  Sobriety  of  mind,  your  Interests  of  both  time  and 
eternity,  will  be  neglected  and  lost. 

Levity  of  disposition  is  the  certain  road  to  poverty,  trouble, 
and  disgrace.  He,  who  makes  amusement  his  business,  will  be- 
come a  beggar  of  course  ;  and  be  compelled  to  creep  through 
life  in  want,  insignificance,  and  contempt.  It  is  impossible,  that 
he  should  acquire  reputation,  or  be  useful  to  mankind,  or  even 
to  himself  If  property  be  thrown  into  his  hands  by  his  parents, 
or  by  the  events  of  Providence,  it  will  be  squandered  by  him  ;  if 
not,  it  will  never  be  acquired.  Steadiness  of  thought,  and  con- 
stancy of  exertion,  are  indispensable  to  the  acquisition,  and  still 
more  to  the  preservation,  of  wealth;  and,  equally  to  the  attain- 
ment of  all  other  earthly  good.  "  Seest  thou  a  man  diligent  in 
his  business  .^"  said  the  most  exact  observer  of  human  hfe,  whom 
the  world  has  ever  seen,  "  he  shall  stmd  before  kings :  he  shall 
not  stand  before  mean  men.'''' 

To  your  immortal  concerns  these  observations  are  applicable 
with  equal  force.  To  the  very  nature  of  these  concerns  light- 
ness of  mind  is  a  direct,  and  unchanging  enemy.  He,  who  will 
not  be  serious,  will  never  be  virtuous.  Every  thing,  relating  to 
your  eternal  interests,  is  in  the  highest  degree  solemn,  nay  aw- 
ful, and  amazing.  Heaven  and  hell,  the  great  Being,  who  made 
us,  provoked  by  our  sins,  and  denouncing  against  us  the  ven- 
geance of  eternal  fire ;  the  glorious  Redeemer  of  mankind,  de- 
scending with  infinite  love,  to  die  for  us  ;  our  own  character,  as 
fallen,  condemned  creatures,  who  are  yet  invited  to  return  to 
God,  and  obtain  an  inheritance  in  his  everlasting  love  ;  are  sub- 
jects, solemn  and  impressive  beyond  expression.  They  repel  all 
inconsideration  ;  claim  irresistibly  the  deepest  concern ;  and  de» 
mand  the  most  ardent  pursuit.    To  a  light  minded  man  they  say 

Vol.  H.  5 


3Q  THE  YOUNG  EXHORTED  [SER.  II. 

at  a  great  distance,  and  with  awful  authority,  "  Hitherto  shalt 
thou  come,  but  no  further.'''' 

3.  The  present  is  the  best  Time  to  secure  this  disposition  ;  es- 
pecially,  as  it  respects  your  immortal  interests. 

You  are  now  disinclined  to  pay  any  serious  attention  to  your 
eternal  well  being.  Every  day  you  live,  you  will  be  more  disin- 
clined. The  difficulties  in  your  way  to  salvation  are  now  such, 
as  prevent  you  from  begining  this  mighty  work.  Every  future 
day,  they  will  be  greater.  Now  the  subject  is  unwelcome  to  you, 
to  morrow  it  will  be  disgusting. 

Look  back  upon  your  past  lives.  Has  religion  become  more 
agreeable  to  you  by  the  flight  of  time  ?  Has  the  past  year  render- 
ed it  more  pleasing  ?  Are  you  more  sober  minded  ?  Is  the  char- 
acter of  God  more  interesting  to  you  ?  Is  Christ  more  desirable  ? 
Do  you  regard  your  souls  with  more  affection  ?  Are  you  more 
willing  to  ask  for  blessings  ?  Are  you  more  constant,  or  more 
fervent,  in  your  prayers  ?  Does  the  eye  of  God  see,  does  his  ear 
hear,  proofs  of  any  such  reformation  ?  Does  he  not,  on  the  con- 
trary, behold  you  still  seriously  engaged  about  nothing,  but  pleas- 
ure ;  and  still  trifling  away  your  day  of  probation  ? 

But,  if  during  the  year  past,  you  have  not  advanced  a  single 
step  towards  heaven,  is  it  not  plain,  that,  so  long  as  your  present 
disposition  continues,  you  will  never  advance  a  single  step  ?  Do 
not  you  yourselves  believe,  that  your  character  must  be  changed ; 
that  your  lightness  of  mind  must  give  place  to  the  sobriety,  en- 
joined in  the  text ;  that  you  must  no  longer  be  fascinated  by 
amusements  ;  that  you  must  turn  your  eyes,  and  summon  your 
affections,  to  the  interests  of  the  soul  ;  must  weigh  time  against 
eternity,  and  earth  against  heaven  and  hell  ?  All  the  aged,  and 
middle  aged,  around  you  were  once  young,  as  you  now  are. 
They  were  as  hopeful ;  and  gave  as  fair  a  promise  of  future  good. 
Every  advantage,  which  you  possess,  they  enjoyed  :  and  God 
encircled  them  with  privileges,  and  blessings.  But  how  many, 
whom  }ou  know,  have  neglected  all  their  privileges,  and  but  too 
probably  lost  them  forever  ?  How  many  have  become  fixed  in 
evil  habits,  and  evil  pursuits ;  and  have  yielded  themselves  finally 


SER.  II.]  TO  SOBRIETY  OP  MIND.  31 

up  to  sense,  to  the  world  and  to  perdition  ?  Of  how  many  it  has 
become  difficult  for  you  to  entertain  a  feeble  hope,  that  they  will 
not  ultimately  perish !  Have  you  not  often  found  a  reluctance 
to  think  on  this  subject  with  attention,  and  to  inquire  what  would 
become  of  them  in  the  end  ?  Have  you  not,  in  spite  of  all  your 
wishes,  been  forced,  at  times,  to  conclude,  that  there  was  not 
even  a  doubtful  prospect  of  their  becoming  better,  or  being  hap- 
py beyond  the  grave  ? 

Shall,  then,  this  melancholy  case  be  your  own  ?  Can  you  wil- 
lingly take  this  character ;  and  terminate  life  with  these  pros- 
pects ?  Would  you  be  willing  to  enter  eternity,  as  you  now  are  1 
Does  your  present  conduct  furnish  any  reason  to  believe,  that  you 
will  enter  it  with  a  better  character,  or  with  better  hopes  ? 

Youth  is  an  invaluable  season.  The  heart  is  then  compara- 
tively tender,  and  the  soul  open  to  instruction.  All  interesting 
things  easily  make  deep  impressions  on  the  thoughts.  God  may 
then  be  regarded  as  being  peculiarly  reconcileable.  The  great 
body  of  those,  who  are  saved,  are  apparently  turned  to  righteous- 
ness in  this  happy  period.  Were  it  not,  that  the  young  are  so 
prone  to  levity  of  thought,  and  so  enchanted  with  pleasure ;  this 
season  would  be  still  more  hopeful.  Sobriety  of  mind  would  in 
all  probability  save  many  a  youth  from  destruction  ;  and  mightily 
enlarge  the  kingdom  of  heaven. 

4.  You  ought  immediately  to  assume  this  character,  because 
you  have  no  security  of  years  to  come. 

Within  twelve  months  some  of  you  may  be  in  the  grave. 
Should  God  with  an  audible  voice  declare  concerning  one,  op 
another,  of  your  number,  that  within  this  period  he  would  be 
summoned  to  the  judgment ;  what  would  be  his  emotions?  What 
would  be  his  condition  ?  But  if  the  same  person  goes  on  in  his 
present  course,  the  only  difference  will  be,  that  his  condemnation 
will  be  delayed  a  few  short  years ;  and  that  this  delay  will  make 
him  more  guilty,  and  his  perdition  more  dreadful. 

Think  then,  I  beseech  you,  with  the  deep  anxiety,  which  the 
case  demands,  of  your  present  situation ;  of  your  lightness  of 
mind ;  of  your  miserable  subjection  to  your  passions  and  appe- 


52  THE  YOUNG  EXHORTED  [SER.  II. 

tites ;  your  sottish  devotion  to  amusement  and  pleasure.  What 
is  to  be  the  end  of  this  career  ?  Wili  it  prepare  you  for  death  ? 
Will  it  enable  you  to  leave  the  world  with  hope ;  and  to  give  up 
your  account  with  joy  ?  Will  it  become  the  foundation  of  your 
acquittal  in  the  judgment ;  or  open  for  you  the  gates  of  heaven  ; 
or  fit  you  for  the  blessings  of  immortality  ?  How  deplorable  will 
it  be  to  die  at  the  end  of  such  a  life  !  How  dreadful,  to  recite  be- 
fore your  Judge  an  account,  made  up  of  amusements !  How 
melancholy,  to  remember  in  the  future  world,  that  for  amusements 
the  soul  was  lost  forever ! 

He,  who  must  die,  ought  certainly  to  be  always  ready  for  death. 
As  he  cannot  foresee  the  hour,  in  which  he  must  leave  the  world, 
common  prudence,  as  well  as  the  command  of  God,  requires  him 
to  be  prepared  for  this  event  at  every  hour.  "  Am  I  ready  ?"  is  a 
question,  which  you  are  bound  to  ask,  every  day  you  live.  Are 
your  sins  forgiven  ?  Have  you  besought  the  Lord  with  strong  cry- 
ing, and  many  tears,  to  forgive  them,  and  to  save  you  from  end- 
less woe  ?  Are  you  penitent,  believing  and  prayerful  ?  Have  you 
chosen  God  as  your  God  ;  Christ  as  your  Saviour  ;  and  the  Spirit 
of  truth  as  your  Sanctifier  ?  Have  you  confessed  Christ  before 
men?     Or,  if  not,  are  you  now  prepared  to  make  this  confession? 

Or,  on  the  contrary,  are  you  still  sinners ;  strangers  to  the  cov- 
enant of  promise ;  without  God,  and  therefore  ivithout  hope  in 
the  world. ^  Are  you  prayerless ;  thankless;  impenitent;  unbe- 
lieving ;  possessed  of  hard  hearts  and  blind  minds  ?  Is  the  world 
your  God ;  your  portion ;  your  all  ?  Is  it  true,  that  you  have 
never  even  asked  God  to  save  you ;  and  that  heaven  has  never 
known  a  single  petition  from  your  lips  enter  its  delightful  walls 
for  your  eternal  life  ? 

When  the  great  curtain,  which  hides  the  invisible  world  from 
your  sight,  shall  be  drawn,  will  you  behold,  unveiled  to  your  eyes, 
the  gates  of  glory,  opening  to  receive  you ;  a  smiling  Judge, 
ready  to  acquit  you;  and  the  spirits  of,  just  men,  made  perfect^ 
waiting  to  hail  your  arrival  ?  Or  will  you  meet  an  angry  Judge ; 
a  dreadful  condemnation ;  a  world  of  sorrow ;  and  a  host  of  mis- 
erable companions,  hailing  your  approach  to  their  own  melan- 
choly doom  ? 


SER.  II.]  TO  SOBRIETY  OF  MIND.  33 

Look  forward  to  the  events  of  a  year  to  come ;  and  tell  me 
what  emotions  it  must  excite  in  your  minds  to  remember  at  the 
close  of  it,  that  during  this  period  you  began  to  renounce  your 
sins ;  to  trust  in  your  R.edeemer ;  to  obey  your  God  ;  and  to  com- 
mence your  journey  tovvrads  the  regions  of  immortal  life  ?  What 
transports  would  spring  up  in  the  hearts  of  your  parents,  to  know 
that  all  their  fears,  and  all  your  dangers,  were  terminated,  be- 
cause you  had  chosen  the  one  thing  needful,  the  good  part,  which 
ivill  never  be  taken  from  you?  How  delightful  would  it  then  be 
to  find  your  conflict  ended,  and  your  victory  v^^on  ;  to  see  your- 
selves fairly  entered  into  the  straight  and  narrow  way  ;  and  noth- 
ing remaining,  but  to  continue  your  progress  ?  Think  what  it 
must  be  to  possess  the  hope,  and  joy,  of  sanctified  minds  ;  to  be- 
come children  of  God,  and  followers  of  the  Redeemer ;  to  make 
all  virtuous  beings  your  friends ;  and  to  commence  the  divine  ca- 
reer of  glorifying  your  Creator,  and  doing  good  to  the  universe, 
throughout  an  interminable  existence  ?  What  a  period  would 
such  a  year  be  !  How  long  to  be  remembered  on  earth  !  How 
rapturously  to  be  celebrated  in  the  ages  of  heaven  ! 

To  encourage  yourselves  in  this  noble  and  evangelical  pursuit, 
call  to  mind  that  God,  to  you,  is  now  a  God  at  hand,  and  not  a 
God  afar  off.  Behold  his  hand  is  not  shortened  that  it  cannot 
save  ;  nor  is  his  ear  heavy  that  it  cannot  hear.  He  is  now  ready 
to  receive,  and  welcome,  you  to  his  kingdom,  his  forgiveness,  and 
his  everlasting  love.  "  Come  unto  we,"  says  the  merciful  Saviour 
of  mankind,  '■'■all  ye  that  labour,  and  are  heavy  laden  ;  and  I  will 
give  you  rest.  Take  my  yoke  upon  you  ;  and  learn  of  me :  for  I 
am  meek,  and  lowly  of  heart :  and  ye  shall  find  rest  to  your 
soids :  for  my  yoke  is  easy,  and  my  burden  is  light.'''' 

On  the  other  hand,  how  distressing  will  it  be,  if  a  season  so 
inviting,  so  plainly  the  best  which  you  will  ever  enjoy,  should  roll 
on  all  its  days,  and  weeks,  and  months,  in  vain.  How  distress- 
ing, that  fifty  two  sabbaths  should  shine  with  their  benevolent 
beams  upon  your  heads,  and  illumine  your  paths  to  the  house  of 
God,  only  to  increase  your  condemnation  ?  How  painful  is  the 
reflection,  that  all  these  golden  days  will  be  lost !    that  they  will 


34  THE  YOUNG  EXHORTED,  &c,  [SER.  11, 

be  wasted  in  gratifying  passions  which  warp,  and  in  pursuing 
pleasures  which  steal,  your  affections  from  God.  How  melan- 
choly is  the  thought,  that  the  last  of  these  sabbaths  may  find  you 
in  the  grave ;  the  house  of  God  see  your  seat  empty,  to  be  filled 
by  you  no  more ;  and  those,  whom  you  leave  behind,  follow 
your  departed  spirits  with  fears,  and  sighs,  and  sorrows,  and 
mourn  over  your  unhappy  end  without  consolation  and  without 
hope.  Oh  that  ye  were  ivise !  that  ye  understood  these  things  f 
that  ye  woidd  consider  your  latter  end  ! 


SERMON  III. 

THE  DANGER  OF  LOSING  CONVICTIONS  OF  CONSCIENCE. 

Matthew  xii.  43 — 45. 

When  the  unclean  spirit  is  gone  out  of  a  man,  he  walketh  through 
dry  places,  seeking  rest,  andfindeth  none. 

Then  he  saith,  '■'■  I  will  return  into  my  house,  from  whence  I 
came  out,''''  and  when  he  is  come,  he  findeth  it  empty,  swept,  and 
garnished. 

Then  goeth  he,  and  taketh  with  himself  seven  other  spirits^ 
more  wicked  than  himself ;  and  they  enter  in  and  dwell  there  : 
and  the  last  state  of  that  man  is  ivorse  than  the  first.  Even  so 
.'■hall  it  be,  also,  unto  this  wicked  generation. 

These  words  are  a  part  of  a  discourse,  addressed  by  Christ 
to  certain  of  the  Scribes  and  Pharisees.  In  consequence  of  the 
pungent  sermon  which  he  had  uttered,  after  they  had  charged 
him  with  casting  out  demons  by  Beelzebub,  the  prince  of  the 
demons,  they  demanded  of  him  a  sign  from  heaven  :  i.  e.  a  proof 
of  his  Messiahship.  Their  application  for  this  sign  seems  to 
have  been  made,  partly  with  a  design  of  putting  a  stop  to  the 
distressing  reproofs  of  Christ,  and  partly  with  the  hope  of  con- 
founding him  by  disproving  his  pretensions.  In  his  reply,  Christ 
refuses  them  any  other  sign,  beside  that  of  Jonas,  the  prophet ; 
whose  temporary  burial  in  the  fish  strongly  typified  that  of  Christ 
in  the  earth.  Then,  resuming  the  same  forcible  strain  of  rebuke, 
he  uttered  several  very  solemn  and  awful  threatenings,  and  con- 
cluded his  remarks  with  the  text.  A  more  dreadful  picture  of 
the  guilt  and  danger  of  these  men,  and  of  all  who  are  like  them, 
was  never  drawn. 


36  THE  DANGER  OF  LOSING  [SER.  III. 

Tliis  passage  of  Scripture  is  apparently  a  parable.  It  may  be 
a  literal  representation  of  facts.  But  there  is  nothing  in  the 
phraseology,  which  requires  us  to  understand  it  in  this  sense. 
Whether  considered  as  a  simple,  or  symbolical,  representation,  it 
conveys  to  us,  in  substance,  the  same  truths.  Our  sole  concern 
lies  with  the  things,  which  the  Saviour  designed  to  communicate, 
whether  the  facts  or  the  persons  were  real  or  parabolical,  is  to  us 
of  no  importance. 

There  is  scarcely  a  more  extraordinary  paragraph  in  the  Scrip- 
tures than  this.  Interpreters  have  extensively,  and  as  I  believe 
justly,  considered  it  as  a  representation  of  the  state  of  a  sinner,  in 
some  degree  affected  with  a  sense  of  his  guilt,  forming  resolutions 
of  amendment,  and  making  some  attempts  towards  Evangelical 
reformation;  but  finally  relinquishing  them  all,  and  returning 
again,  like  the  dog  to  his  vomit,  and  like  the  sow,  that  ivas  ivash- 
ed,  to  her  wallowing  in  the  mire.  Our  Saviour  subjoins,  "  ^S^o 
shall  it  be,  also,  unto  this  wicked  generation.'''' 

Plainly,  therefore,  this  parable  is  a  description  of  the  moral 
state  of  the  Jews,  to  a  considerable  extent,  at  the  time  when  it 
was  spoken.  In  every  age,  and  every  country,  where  the  Scrip- 
tures are  known,  there  are  persons,  whose  moral  condition  is  the 
same  with  that  of  these  Jeivs ;  persons  of  a  hard  heart,  and  a 
guilty  life  ;  who  yet  feel  at  times,  and  in  some  degree,  their  guilt 
and  their  danger.  These  persons  usually  form  some  designs, 
and  even  some  resolutions,  to  repent.  In  many  instances,  how- 
ever, they  return  to  their  former,  sinful  life  with  new,  more  guilty, 
and  more  hopeless  dispositions.  Of  all  such  persons  this  parable 
is  no  less  a  just  description,  than  of  those  Jews,  whom  they  so 
strongly  resemble.  To  these  (for  it  is  behoved,  that  some  of 
them  may  be  found  in  this  assembly)  it  is  now  solemnly  addressed. 

It  is  hardly  necessary  to  say,  that  the  representation  is  forcible 
and  affecting,  beyond  example ;  and  demands,  not  merely  the 
solemn  and  profound,  but  the  alarmed  and  eager  attention  of  all 
men;  especially  of  those,  who  either  are,  or  are  in  danger  of 
being  in  the  situation,  here  described.  I  think  of  no  method,  in 
which  I  may  unfold,  or  impress,  the  things,  contained  in  it,  more 


SER.  III.]  CONVICTIONS  OF  CONSCIENCE.  37 

clearly  and  more  effectually,  than  by  following  the  order  of  the 
parable  itself,  and  marking,  as  I  pass,  such  particulars,  as  are  of 
peculiar  importance  to  the  general  design.  This  course  I  shall 
therefore  pursue.     I  shall  consider  then, 

1.  The  miserable  condition  of  an  impenitent  sinner,  before  he 
is  awakened  to  a  serious  conviction  of  his  guilt. 

"  When  the  unclean  spirit  is  gone  out  of  a  man'''' — From  this 
clause  we  learn,  that,  to  the  eye  of  God,  the  soul  of  such  a  man 
is  the  habitation  of  a  foul  and  wicked  spirit,  w  ho  there  fixes  his 
abode.  Nay  he  appropriates  this  abode  to  himself  as  his  own 
property.  Then  he  saith  "  /  will  return  to  my  house  from  ivhence 
I  came  out  ,•"  "  my  house  ;"  language,  plainly  adopted  because 
he  regards  it  as  his  settled  proper  residence  ;  the  dwelling,  where 
he  steadily  lives,  and  is  literally  at  home. 

Think,  I  beseech  you,  of  the  import  of  these  extraordinary 
words.  What  would  be  the  condition  of  the  poor  wretch,  of 
whom  a  fiend  from  the  bottomless  pit  should  take  entire  posses- 
sion; so  as  to  render  the  soul  of  the  man  his  property,  his  house, 
the  place  where  he  always  dwelt,  and  where  he  had  an  undispu- 
ted control.  Think  what  an  inhabitant  is  here  pourtrayed.  Of 
what  an  inmate  has  such  a  soul  become  the  tenement  ?  What 
employments  must  such  a  being  pursue  in  its  secret  chambers  ? 
How  plainly  must  it  be  his  prime  business  to  seduce,  to  corrupt, 
and  to  destroy ;  to  rouse  its  evil  passions  and  evil  appetites,  and 
to  goad  it  into  opposition  to  truth  and  righteousness.  Against 
man  it  must  be  his  delight  to  inspire  it  with  injustice,  fraud,  and 
revenge  ;  against  God  to  arm  it  with  impiety,  unbelief,  ingrat- 
itude and  rebellion  ;  and  against  itself  to  direct  its  hostility  in 
all  the  snaky  paths  of  pollution.  These  must  be  the  peculiar 
and  incessant  employments  of  such  an  impure  and  malignant  be- 
ing. Of  these  employments  what  is  the  end.  It  is  no  other 
than  to  withdraw  it  from  truth,  duty,  religion,  hope  and  heaven ; 
and  to  hurry  it  onward  to  perdition. 

What  in  this  case  must  be  the  character  of  the  soul  itself?  The 
whole  influence  of  such  a  spirit  mu.<t  arise  from  the  fact,  that  the 
soul,  which  he  inhabits,  voluntarily  yields  to  his  suggestions.    H» 

Vol.  II.  6 


38  THE  DANGER  OF  LOSING  [SER.  IIL 

resides  there,  only  because  he  is  a  welcome  guest.  He  works 
there,  only  because  the  man  loves  to  have  it  so.  He  prevails,  be- 
cause the  man  chooses  to  submit.  He  rules,  because  the  man 
is  pleased  to  be  under  his  dominion.  He  corrupts  and  destroys, 
because  the  man  loves  to  be  corrupted  and  destroyed.  "  Whoso 
sinneth  against  me  wrongeth  his  own  soul;  all  thet/,  that  hate  me, 
love  death.'''' 

But  such,  in  substance,  is  the  real  state  of  the  man  in  question. 
There  may,  indeed,  be  no  such  spirit,  no  impure,  foreign  being, 
residing,  controlling,  and  triumphing.  Still  the  affections,  the 
purposes  and  the  character,  are  such,  as  to  be  justly  described 
by  this  strong  symbolical  language.  The  soul  is  such,  as  if  in- 
habited and  corrupted  by  this  destroyer.  How  dangerous,  how 
miserable,  a  condition  is  that  of  a  stupid,  hardened  sinner,  sold 
to  sin,  and  devoted  by  himself  to  destruction  ? 

It  is  not  improbable,  that  there  are  many  persons  present,  who 
will  hardly  be  induced  to  believe  this  representation.  Let  me 
request  every  one  of  them  to  remember,  that  these  things  are 
all  said  by  the  Saviour  of  men,  the  final  Judge  of  the  quick  and 
the  dead  ;  that  it  is  declared  of  him  by  the  voice  of  inspiration, 
that  he  knoivs  what  is  in  man  ;  that  he  declares  of  himself,  that 
he  searches  the  hearts,  and  the  reins:  and  that  on  this  knowledge 
will  be  founded  his  final  sentence  concerning  every  child  oi  Adam 
at  the  great  day.  Let  it  also  be  remembered,  that  he  can  no 
more  deceive,  than  be  deceived  ;  and  that  these  are  his  words. 
Must  not  every  sinner  in  this  house,  who  has  sufficient  sobriety 
to  make  an  application  of  them  to  his  own  case,  and  to  learn 
his  real  situation,  tremble  at  these  awful  declarations  of  Christ, 
and  shudder  to  think  what  he  himself  is. 

2.  Convictions  of  sin  constitute  in  the  eye  of  God  an  impor- 
tant change  in  the  state  of  man. 

"  When  the  unclean  spirit  is  gone  out  of  a  man'''* 

The  change,  of  which  I  have  spoken,  is  so  great,  as  to  be  justly 
represented  by  this  imagery.  Before,  the  unclean  spirit  dwelt  in 
the  soul  without  disturbance.  Now,  he  finds  himself  so  strenu- 
ously resisted,  that,  in  despair  of  future  success,  he  quits  a  habita- 


>ER.  III.]  CONVICTIONS  OF  CONSCIENCE.  39 

tion  which  has  become  so  uncomfortable,  because  it  promises  so 
little  opportunity  of  doing  mischief.  Of  course  he  hastens  to 
some  other  place,  where  the  same  dreadful  employment  may  be 
more  hopefully  pursued.  "  The  Jiend,^''  in  the  language  of  the 
great  English  Poet,  "  The  fend  murmuring  flies  ;  and  with  him 
fly  the  shades  of  night :"  of  that  deep  and  dreadful  night,  which 
he  himself  shed  over  the  world  within.  In  a  sense,  the  man  has 
once  more  become  his  own  ;  and  is  partially  delivered  from  the 
deplorable  thraldom  under  which  he  had  so  long  laboured. 

Certainly  rtiis  is  a  great  and  desirable  change.  The  subtlety, 
malice,  and  domination,  of  a  fiend,  of  passions  and  appetites 
strongly  resembling  the  character  of  a  fiend,  have  in  some  good 
measure  been  overcome.  The  captive  is  in  a  good  degree  at  lib- 
erty to  understand,  and  pursue,  his  own  salvation.  Many  of  his 
incumbrances  are  shaken  off;  many  of  his  discouragements  re- 
moved. The  victory,  indeed,  is  not  of  course  final.  Yet  it  is  a 
victory  of  vast  importance ;  and  is  often  followed  if  perseveringly 
pursued,  perhaps  always,  by  consequences  interesting  beyond 
conception.  How  fervently,  then,  ought  every  person  in  this  situa- 
tion to  labour,  that  he  may  secure  all  which  he  has  gained,  and 
take  advantage  of  his  present,  commanding  ground  to  acquire  all 
which  remains.  How  diligently  ought  every  such  person  to  watch 
against  every  danger,  the  approach  of  every  temptation,  the  as- 
saults of  every  enemy,  and  especially  the  dreadful  possession  from 
which  he  has  just  escaped  ?  How  ardently  ought  he  to  strive 
against  the  returns  of  stupidity,  backsliding,  and  corruption? 
How  fervently  to  pray,  that  God  woul/d  enable  him  to  persevere, 
advance,  overcome  every  obstacle,  and  finally  win  the  prize  of 
immortal  life.  If  such  persons  forsake  themselves ;  God  will  for- 
sake them.  If  they  forget  their  souls ;  they  ought  to  expect  that 
they  will  be  forgotten  by  their  Maker.  If  they  despise  their  own 
eternal  well-being ;  they  cannot  hope  to  escape  from  the  ruin, 
which  is  before  them. 

3.  We  are  here  taught^  that  beings  absolutely  sinful  find  nei- 
ther rest^  nor  enjoyment,  but  in  doing  evil. 

"  He  walketh  through  dry  i.  e.  desert  places^  seeking  rest  and 
findeth  noney 


40  THE  DANGER  OF  LOSING  [SER.  Ill, 

While  the  unclean  spirit  resided  in  his  former  dwelling,  he  was 
in  a  sense  settled  in  ease  and  quiet ;  because  he  was  corrupting 
and  destroying  the  man.  The  business  of  corrupting  and  des- 
troying was  all,  in  which  he  found  any  ease.  The  moment  his 
hopes  of  success  in  this  diabolical  business  began  to  fail,  he  quit- 
ted his  mansion ;  and  wandered  into  a  desert.  Here  he  roamed 
alone,  restless  and  wretched ;  and  peculiarly  wretched  because 
he  could  no  longer  successfully  pursue  the  work  of  destruction. 

Wickedness  is  a  spirit  ahsolutely  solitary.  All  its  social  char- 
acter, all  its  sympathy,  is  nothing,  but  the  disposition  which 
unites  banditti  in  the  fell  purpose  of  plundering,  pollution,  and 
murder.  With  others  it  joins,  solely  because  it  cannot  accom- 
plish its  foul  ends  alone.  Even  with  these  it  has  no  union  of 
heart,  no  fellow  feeling,  no  real  sociahty.  It  attracts  nothing, 
and  nobody.  Every  thing  it  repels.  Hell,  with  all  its  millions, 
is  a  perfect  solitude  to  each  of  its  inhabitants.  They  unite  only 
to  destroy  each  other,  or  to  accomplish  elsewhere  the  same  work 
of  ruin.  Not  one  of  them  can  find  a  single  friend  in  all  the  vast 
multitude  around  him.  Nay,  this  immense  multitude  serves  only 
to  make  him  feel,  that  he  is  more  entirely  alone;  more  perfectly 
friendless;  more  absolutely  destitute  of  confidence,  affection,  and 
hope.  Such  is  the  true  nature  of  sin,  or  selfishness,  in  every  hu- 
man breast :  and,  although  its  tendencies  are  strongly  resisted 
by  natural  affection  in  the  present  world,  it  bursts,  in  innumera- 
ble instances,  this  bond  ;  and  discovers  its  fiend-like  character  in 
the  terrible  crimes  to  which  it  goads  our  miserable  race.  Intense 
ambition,  avarice,  and  voluptuousness,  rage,  even  here,  without 
control ;  and  diffuse  around  them  misery,  not  a  httle  resembling 
that  of  the  damned.  What  an  endless  multitude  have  they  sac- 
rificed with  the  sword.  What  a  multitude  of  victims  have  they 
brought  to  the  cross  and  to  the  stake.  What  is  this,  but  the  tem- 
per and  the  conduct  of  liell  ? 

Even  when  this  spirit  appears  in  a  milder  form,  and  assumes  no 
violence,  nor  any  apparent  malice ;  still,  both  its  character,  and 
its  employments,  are  substantially  the  same.  To  corrupt  is  to 
destroy.    The  process  is  indeed  slower ;  but  it  lis  equally  sure. 


SER.  III.]  CONVICTIONS  OF  CONSCIENCE.  41 

The  aspect,  exhibited  by  the  spirit  of  corruption,  is  indeed  less 
forbidding  :  but  the  mischiefs,  which  it  does,  are  not  in  the  end 
less  dreadful.  Every  seducer,  every  tempter,  is  at  the  bottom  an 
enemy,  and  a  villain  :  and  nothing  can  be  more  false  than  the  pro- 
fessions, made  by  men  of  this  character. 

4.  Persons.,  under  conviction^  are  always  in  danger  of  falling 
anew  into  hardness  of  heart. 

"  He  saith  '  /  will  return  into  my  house.,  from  whence  I  came 

out.:'' 

At  first,  and  for  a  time,  he  despaired  of  gaining  a  final  victory 
over  the  man  whose  soul  he  inhabited ;  and  in  this  despair,  leav- 
ing him  to  himself,  wandered  into  the  desert.  But,  after  looking 
in  vain  for  a  new  victim,  he  began  to  indulge  fresh  hopes  of  re-oc- 
cupying his  former  residence.  Accordingly  he  determined  to  re- 
turn and  make  it  his  permanent  abode. 

The  first  victory,  which  is  gained  when  the  soul  becomes  con- 
vinced of  its  sins,  is  far  from  being  final.  It  is  a  happy  begin- 
ning ;  and  if  followed  by  vigorous  and  unremitted  efforts,  is  a 
propitious  prelude  to  future  success.  But  he  who  rests  here,  and 
feels  as  if  he  had  already  attained,  or  were  already  safe,  is  ruined  ' 
of  course.  He  is  become  convinced  of  his  guilt,  and  has  thus 
advanced  a  necessary  step  towards  eternal  life.  But  he  has  not 
turned  to  God  ;  and  without  this  conversion  all,  which  is  done, 
will  be  nothing. 

Probably  every  person,  who  is  under  a  strong  conviction  of 
his  guilt,  is  assailed  by  many  temptations.  Either  he  will  distrust, 
and  despair  of,  the  divine  mercy ;  or  he  will  be  induced  to  trust 
presumptuously  in  his  own  righteousness,  or  to  feel  satisfied  of  his 
ability  to  save  liimself ;  or  he  will  settle  down  in  a  state  of  sloth  : 
or  he  will  be  persuaded  to  procrastinate  the  work  of  repentance ; 
or  he  will  yield  himself  up  to  the  guidance  of  erroneous  teachers, 
or  search  out  for  himself  erroneous  doctrines ;  or  he  will  depend 
on  impulses,  and  other  vain  dictates  of  a  wild  imagination.  In 
these  circumstances  some  individuals  strenuously  resist  both  the 
allurements  and  the  terrors.  Others  become  victims  to  them. 
The  former  overcome ;  the  latter  fall  and  often  irrevocably. 


42  THE  DANGER  OF  LOSING  [SER.  III. 

Of  the  truth  of  the  observations  which  I  have  h^re  made,  the 
conversation  of  persons  in  a  state  of  conviction  furnishes  evi- 
dence but  too  decisive.  A  minister  of  the  Gospel  is  by  his  oflice 
made  a  witness,  to  a  great  extent,  of  the  secret  feehngs  of  the 
heart  in  persons  thus  situated.  The  very  things,  which  have  been 
here  mentioned,  I  have  myself  heard  in  such  conversation  ;  and 
have  seen  the  subsequent  conduct.  Without  hesitation,  there- 
fore, I  pronounce  the  observations  to  be  true. 

How  important,  then,  is  it,  that  every  individual  in  such  a  state 
should  be  aware  of  his  danger ;  watch  incessantly  against  his  ene- 
mies ;  and  resist  them  without  intermission.  How  indispensable 
is  it,  that  he  should  pray  always  with  all  prayer  for  the  grace  of 
God,  to  save  him  from  temptation,  and  rescue  him  from  utter 
ruin.  Let  every  such  person,  present,  be  awake,  alive,  and 
alarmed  by  a  sense  of  his  exposure,  and  tremble  at  the  thought 
of  being  overcome  by  his  destroyers. 

5.  The  soul,  from  which  convictions  of  sin  have  been  finally 
banished,  is  more  perfectly  prepared  to  become  the  seat  of  abso- 
lute wickedness,  than  before  these  convictions  began. 

'■'■And,  when  he  is  come,  he  findeth  it  empty,  swept,  and  gar- 
nished.'^'' 

An  empty  house  is  vacant  for  the  reception  of  a  new  inhabit- 
ant. A  house,  swept,  is  rendered  clccin,  to  make  his  residence 
agreeable.  A  house,  garnished,  is  with  pleasure  prepared  to 
welcome  such  an  inhabitant ;  and  designed  to  exhibit  the  res- 
pect with  which  the  original  tenant  regards  his  new  guest,  and 
the  open  testimonies  of  honour  which  he  is  disposed  to  render  to 
him.  It  will  be  remembered,  that  all  this  preparation  is  volun- 
tary on  the  part  of  the  owner ;  and  is  all  designed  for  the  con- 
\'enience,  and  pleasure  of  the  new  occupant.  It  proves  there- 
fore, that  such  an  occupant  v/as  expected,  and  intended  to  re- 
side where  all  these  preparations  had  been  made. 

Thus,  after  the  conflict  with  sin,  and  the  fears  of  danger,  are 
over,  the  soul  becomes  quieted  of  all  its  former  apprehensions, 
and  inactive  as  to  all  future  resistance.  The  work,  though  not 
done,  is  ended ;  and  the  struggles,  though  they  have  failed  of 


SEE.  Ill]  CONVICTIONS  OF  CONSCIENCE.  4S 

their  purpose,  are  given  over.  The  soul  has  ceased  from  its  op- 
position ;  and,  considering  the  eftbrt  as  too  laborious,  and  the 
self-denial  as  too  great,  relinquishes  the  conflict,  with  scarcely  a 
hope  of  resuming  it  at  any  future  period.  Satisfied,  that  with 
ten  thousand,  it  is  unable  to  meet  him,  that  cometh  against  it  with 
twenty  thousand,  it  languishes  au'ay  its  energy,  and  settles  down 
into  a  state  of  hopeless  torpidity.  It  began  to  build,  but  was  not 
able  to  finish. 

From  this  time  it  recedes  visibly  from  the  solemnity  and  con- 
cern, which  it  before  manifested  about  its  sins  and  its  salvation  ; 
and  becomes  gradually  hardened  in  iniquity,  and  alienated  from 
God.  Ordinarily,  this  progress  is  not  without  its  interruptions  ; 
without  checks  of  conscience ;  without  restraints  of  the  Spirit  of 
Grace.  With  some  irregularities  it  is,  however,  continual.  It  is 
too  constant,  too  rapid,  and  too  hopeless  ;  and  but  too  often  does 
the  man  conclude  to  make  no  further  efforts,  and  to  bid  adieu  to 
every  prospect  of  eternal  life. 

6.  The  soul,  from  which  convictions  are  finally  banished^  he- 
comes  far  more  sinful,  than  before   its  convictions  began. 

"  Then  goeth  he,  and  talceth  with  himself  seven  other  spirits 
more  wicked  than  himself,  and  they  enter  in,  and.  dwell  there : 
and  the  last  state  of  that  man  is  worse  than  the  first.'''' 

Seven  is  here  hut  for  an  indefinite  number^  and  may  be  con^ 
sidered  as  standing  for  maiiy.  It  was,  also,  regarded  by  the 
Jews  as  a  perfect  number ;  and  may  therefore  denote,  in  the 
present  case,  the  worst;  or  the  number,  the  most  fitted  to  com- 
plete the  wickedness  and  ruin  of  the  man.  At  the  least,  it  de- 
notes a  greater  number  than  one ;  and,  in  proportion,  a  greater 
series  of  temptations  and  dangers.  These  seven,  are  also,  uni- 
versally more  wicked  than  the  original  tenant  of  this  impure  hab- 
itation ;  more  absolutely  possessed  of  the  fiend-like  character, 
than  himself.  From  each  his  danger  is  of  course  greater  :  from 
all,  how  great,  how  dreadful !  What  a  house  has  this  become  ! 
With  what  inhabitants  is  it  filled  !  To  what  purposes  is  it  destined ! 
In  what  uses  is  it  employed  !  Such,  however,  is  the  real  state  of 
the  man  in  question. 


44  THE  DANGER  OF  LOSING  [SER.  Ill, 

The  soul,  in  this  case,  has  overcome  with  many  struggles,  and 
against  many  motives,  its  strong  sense  of  guilt,  and  its  distressing 
apprehensions  of  danger.  In  this  conflict  the  man  has  hardened 
his  heart,  and  bhnded  his  eyes.  He  has  been  exposed,  per- 
haps, to  the  ridicule  of  his  companions,  to  the  deceitfulness  of 
their  sophistry,  and  to  the  baleful  influence  of  their  example. 
The  calm,  contemplative,  safe,  fireside  he  has  left  for  the  haunts 
of  sense  and  sin  ;  his  sober,  virtuous  friends  for  the  company  of 
seducers  ;  and  the  instructions  of  piety  for  the  snares  of  pleas- 
ure. From  the  remonstrances  of  conscience  he  has  retreated 
to  the  noise  and  gaiety  of  hcentious  sport ;  from  the  house  of 
God  to  the  theatre  and  the  gaming  table  ;  and  from  the  path 
of  life  to  the  broad  and  crooked  road,  which  leads  him  to  destruc- 
tion. The  fears  and  distresses,  which  a  little  while  since  compel- 
led him  to  solemn  thought,  and  temporary  external  reformation, 
he  forces  away  by  joining  with  others  in  their  contempt  and 
derision. 

Of  the  praise,  or  approbation,  of  God  he  now  becomes  re- 
gardless ;  but  of  that  of  his  companions  in  iniquity  he  is  more 
and  more  ambitious.  A  little  while  since,  their  commendation 
would  have  awakened  in  his  mind  nothing  but  alarm.  Now  he 
dreads  nothing  so  much  as  their  censure.  They  are  at  once,  his 
instructors,  his  rulers,  and  his  example.  Once  he  hoped,  that  he 
should  resemble  the  Redeemer  ;  have  the  same  mind,  which  was 
in  him,  and  walk  as  he  ivalked.  Now  his  sole  wish  is  to  be  like 
tJiem.  Henceforth  his  progress  is  only  downward  !  From  the 
commission  of  one  sin  he  is  of  course  led  to  another  ;  and  from 
those,  which  are  less,  to  those,  which  are  greater.  If  life  lasts, 
he  becomes  in  the  end  a  profligate  here,  and  an  heir  of  distin- 
guished wretchedness  beyond  the  grave.  If  he  does  not  go  to 
the  most  horrid  and  abandoned  lengths ;  it  is  because  God  exer- 
cises more  kindness  to  him,  than  he  to  himself. 

Often  a  person  of  this  description  becomes  ambitious  to  be, 
and  to  shew  himself,  the  first  in  every  proposal,  device  and  ca- 
reer of  sin ;  and  in  every  band  of  sinners.  In  the  indulgence 
of  this  spirit  he  usually  makes  it  his  prime  business  to  appear  as 


SER.  III.]  CONVICTIONS  OF  CONSCIENCE.  45 

an  open  opposer  of  religion,  a  despiser  of  good  men,  a  reviler 
of  the  Scriptures,  a  contemner  of  the  Sabbath,  a  ridiculer  of 
the  Sanctuary.  Not  unfrequently  might  he  with  justice  be  ad- 
dressed, as  Eh/mas,  the  sorcerer,  was  by  St.  Paul :  "  O  full  of 
all  siihtlety  and  all  miscJdef ;  thou  child  of  the  devil;  thou  enemy 
of  all  righteousness  !  wilt  thou  not  cease  to  pervert  the  right  ways 
of  the  Lord  .^"  His  station  he  vohnitarily  takes  in  the  front  of 
the  host ;  and  ventures  into  the  thickest  of  the  battle.  Too  far, 
therefore,  does  he  advance,  to  think  of  retreating.  His  pride, 
his  self-consistency,  make  him  regard  this  subject  only  with  dis- 
dain ;  and  push  him  on  to  every  hostile  effort  against  his  Maker. 
After  some  time  spent  in  this  manner,  he  learns  habitually  to  feel, 
as  if  embarked  in  a  continual  warfare,  and  as  if  always  in  arms. 

Thus,  instead  of  being  influenced,  deceived,  and  controlled, 
by  one  fiend,  he  is  spurred  and  goaded  on  by  a  band  of  fiends ; 
is  kept  always  vigorously  active  in  iniquity,  violently  at  war  with 
God,  and  in  a  steady  direction  of  all  his  energy  against  truth 
and  salvation. 

Last,  and  most  dreadful  of  all,  as  he  has  finally  resisted  with 
gross  insult  the  most  benevolent  efforts  of  the  Holy  Spirit  to  win 
him  from  guilt,  to  restore  him  to  holiness,  and  to  entitle  him  to 
endless  life  ;  as  he  has  crucified  afresh  the  Son  of  God,  accoun- 
ted the  blood  of  the  covenant,  wherewith  he  was  sanctified,  an 
unholy  thing,  and  put  him  to  open  shame ;  as  he  has  despised 
the  riches  of  the  goodness,  forbearance,  and  long-suffering,  of 
God,  and  after  his  hardness,  and  impenitent  heart  has  treasured 
up  wrath  against  the  day  of  wrath  ;  he  is  forsaken  by  that  Spi- 
rit, to  whom  he  has  done  this  despite,  forgotten  by  that  Redee- 
mer, whom  he  has  thus  requited,  and  given  up  by  that  Father 
of  all  mercies,  against  whom  he  has  thus  finally  rebelled,  to  a 
reprobate  mind.  Henceforth  he  is  only  endured  as  a  vessel  of 
wrath,  fitted  for  destruction.  At  first  a  partial,  then  an  open  In- 
fidel, exiled  from  the  Sanctuary,  scorning  the  Scriptures,  and 
making  a  mock  of  sin  and  holiness  alike,  it  becomes  impossible, 
that  he  should  be  renewed  to  repentance.  No  more  sacrifice  for 
sin  remaineth  for  him;  but  a  fearful  looking  for  of  judgment , 

Vol.  H.  7 


46  THE  DANGER  OF  LOSING  [SER.  IIL 

and  fiery  indignation.  Accordingly,  God  sends  upon  him  strong 
delusion^  that  he  shoidd  believe  a  lie^  and  be  damned,  because  he 
believed  not  the  truth,  but  had  pleasure  in  unrighteousness.  The 
Saviour  only  weeps  over  him,  as  over  Jerusalem  ;  crying  with  a 
tenderness  inexpressible,  "  How  often  would  I  have  gathered 
thee,  as  a  hen  gathereth  her  chickens  under  her  wings  ;  but  thou 
wouldst  not.  Oh  that  thou  hadst  known,  even  thou,  in  this  thy  day, 
the  tilings,  which  belong  to  thy  peace  !  but  now  they  are  hidden 
from  thine  eyes.''''  Woe  unto  thee,  miserable  apostate  ;  it  shall 
be  more  tolerable  for  Sodom  and  Gomorrah  in  the  day  of  judg- 
ment than  for  thee. 

REMARKS. 

From  this  passage  of  Scripture,  thus  explained,  we  learn, 
1.   The  immeasurable  importance  of  cherishing  in  the  heart 
Convictions  of  sin. 

The  state  of  mind,  denoted  by  this  phraseology,  is,  I  acknowl- 
edge, often  wearisome  and  distressing.  To  have  a  realizing  con- 
sciousness of  our  guilt ;  to  have  vivid  apprehensions  of  the  dan- 
ger which  it  involves  ;  to  look  back  on  a  life  spent  only  in  rebel- 
lion against  God,  and  forward,  with  a  fearful  expectation  of  suf- 
fering the  effects  of  his  anger  against  impenitence :  is  unques- 
tionably terrifying  to  an  awakened  mind  ;  and  but  for  the  aid 
given  us  by  the  tender  mercy  of  our  Creator,  would  easily  over- 
whelm us  with  agony  and  despair.  That  we  should  earnestly 
wish  for  deliverance  from  such  a  condition  is  inwoven  in  our  na- 
ture ;  and  that  we  should  feel  desirous  of  a  deliverance  from  it 
by  almost  any  means,  especially  when  labouring  under  peculiar 
anguish,  and  still  more  especially  when  that  anguish  has  been 
long  continued,  may  not  unnaturally  be  expected  from  the  frailty 
and  feebleness  of  our  character.  Hence  multitudes  have  in  all 
ages  of  Christianity  been  found,  who  under  the  pressure  of  pain- 
ful truths,  and  distressing  apprehensions,  have,  like  some  of  our 
Saviour's  hearers,  turned  back,  and  refused  any  more  to  walk  tcith 
Christ. 


SER.  III.]  CONVICTIONS  OF  CONSCIENCE.  47 

In  the  text  the  danger  of  this  conduct  is  exhibited  in  the  most 
terrible  manner.  Let  me  beseech  you  solemnly  to  ponder  this 
awful  representation.  Ponder  it  deeply.  Ponder  it  often.  Let 
it  lie  near  your  hearts.     Let  it  awaken  all  your  fears. 

You  may  possibly  reply,  that  this  is  a  figurative  representation  ; 
a  parable ;  an  allegory.  Be  it  so.  Construe  it  as  favourably 
for  yourselves,  as  you  can.  Soften  its  terrible  declarations  as 
much  as  you  can.  There  w^ill  still  remain  in  it  sufficient  alarms 
to  make  the  ears  of  evert/  one  of  you,  who  is  not  deaf,  to  tingle y 
and  the  heart  of  every  one  of  you,  who  is  not  torpid,  to  shrink 
with  dismay. 

From  a  state  of  conviction,  however  distressing  it  may  seem, 
there  are  but  two  ways  of  escape.  One  of  them  leads  to  endless 
Kfe  ;  the  other,  to  endless  death.  The  former  is  the  way  of  re- 
pentance, faith  and  holiness ;  the  latter,  that  of  stupidity,  hard- 
ness of  heart,  the  resumption  of  sin,  and  the  abandonment  of 
Religion.  Of  those,  who  terminate  their  convictions,  how  dif- 
ferent is  the  disposition,  the  progress,  and  the  end.  Who  would 
not  chuse  the  former  ?  Who  would  not  tremble  to  assume  the 
latter  ? 

Cherish,  then,  if  you  possess  them,  these  convictions,  how- 
ever painful  they  may  seem,  however  long  they  may  continue. 
Keep  your  eyes  open  upon  your  guilt,  upon  your  danger,  and 
upon  the  only  way  of  escape  from  both.  Search  the  Scriptures 
diligently  for  those  instructions  and  warnings,  which  on  the  one 
hand  will  teach  you  your  duty  and  your  danger,  and  on  the  other 
will  keep  your  minds  vigorously  alive  to  the  importance  of  both. 
The  threatenings,  found  in  that  sacred  book,  meet  with  awe  and 
apprehension  :  the  invitations,  and  the  promises,  welcome  with 
gratitude,  wonder,  and  delight.  Mark  the  gracious  terms,  in 
which  they  are  given ;  and  adore  the  divine  Spirit  of  condescen- 
sion and  mercy,  by  which  they  are  dictated.  Regard  the  distresses, 
which  you  feel  at  this  period,  as  a  wise  man  regards  the  probe, 
by  which  his  wounds  are  searched  and  healed.  To  yourselves  you 
may  seem  as  losing  a  right  hand,  or  a  right  eye :  but  remember 
that  it  is  better  to  enter  into  life,  maimed,  than  with  two  eyes,  and 


48  THE  DANGER  OF  LOSING  [SER.  III- 

two  hands,  to  be  cast  into  the  f  re  of  hell.  Bow  your  knees  daily 
to  the  Father  of  all  mercies,  with  the  language  and  spirit  of  the 
publican ;  and  cry,  each  of  you,  to  him  in  anguish  of  heart, 
"God  be  merciful  ^mto  me,  a  sinner.''''  Seize  every  opportunity 
to  converse  with  that  frankness,  which  opens  all  the  heart,  with 
good  men  ;  whose  affectionate  instructions  may  enlighten,  quick- 
en, and  strengthen  you  ;  may  give  you  consolation  and  hope ; 
and  persuade  you  to  endure  to  the  end. 

2.  We  learn  from  these  observations  the  high  interest,  which 
persons  in  this  situation  have  in  being  directed  in  their  duty  by 
sound  wisdom. 

Such  persons  betake  themselves,  of  course,  to  some  or  other  of 
those  around  them  for  instruction  and  comfort,  especially,  when, 
as  is  often  the  case,  they  themselves  are  imperfectly  acquainted 
with  subjects  of  this  nature.  Multitudes  in  such  cases  are,  usual- 
ly, willing  enough  to  take  into  their  hands  the  business  of  instruct- 
ing them  ;  and  not  unfrequently  volunteer  their  services.  Let  me 
exhort  you  to  remember,  that  many  of  these  are  totally  unfit  for 
the  office  which  they  assume.  If  you  commit  yourselves  to  the 
guidance  of  ignorant  persons ;  they  will  be  unable  to  point  out 
to  you  your  duty,  or  your  safety:  if  to  that  of  philosophical  Chris- 
tians; they  will  perplex  you  with  distinctions,  and  refinements  in 
speculation,  by  which  you  will  be  only  bewildered.  If  you  fall 
into  the  hands  of  bigotry  ;  you  will  be  told,  that  your  safety  is 
found  alone  in  the  adoption  of  those  opinions,  and  those  practi- 
ces, about  which  this  spirit  is  so  unreasonably  employed  :  opin- 
ions and  practices,  usually  wrong  in  their  nature,  and  always  in 
the  degree  of  importance  attached  to  them.  If  you  go  to  enthu- 
siasts ;  they  will  teach  you,  that  Religion  consists  in  fervours,  in 
impulses,  in  immediate  revelations  from  Heaven  :  things  unknown 
to  the  Scriptures,  and  estranged  from  piety.  They  will  also  tell 
you,  that  its  existence  is  evidenced  by  the  sudden  arrival  of  Scrip- 
tural texts  to  your  minds,  of  which  you  had  no  expectation,  and 
for  the  coming  of  which  you  were  absolutely  unprepared  ;  by  the 
violence  of  your  zeal ;  by  the  abundance  of  your  conversation 
about  religious  subjects  ;  by  high  pretensions ;  and  by  that  spirit 


SER.  III.]  CONVICTIONS  OF  CONSCIENCE.  49 

of  censoriousness,  which  denies  the  character  of  piety  to  sober 
Christians.  The  superstitious  man  will  inform  you,  that  you  must 
tithe  mint^  anise,  and  cummin ;  and  will  be  perfectly  satisfied, 
that  you  should  neglect  the  iveightier  matters  of  the  law  :  judg- 
ment, mercy,  and  faith.  The  frozen-hearted  moralist  will  per- 
suade you,  that,  if  you  speak  truth,  pay  your  debts,  and  occasion- 
ally administer  to  the  necessities  of  the  poor,  you  will  find  your- 
selves in  the  path  to  heaven  ;  and  have  nothing  to  fear  from  the 
anger  of  God,  although  your  hearts  will  still  remain  deceitfid 
above  all  things,  and  desperately  wicked.  All  these  are  blind 
guides:  and  //  the  blind  lead  the  blind,  both,  will  fall  into  the 
ditch. 

In  every  case  of  this  nature  apply  yourselves  directly,  and 
only,  to  sober,  enlightened,  and  pious  men,  whose  lives  prove 
their  piety,  whose  conversation  carries  irresistible  evidence  of 
their  wisdom.  Especially  betake  yourselves  to  Ministers  of  the 
Gospel,  who  clearly,  and  evangelically,  sustain  this  character.  If 
you  tvalk  toith  these  men,  you  will  become  wise.  They  will  shew 
you  the  path  of  life :  they  will  persuade  you  to  enter  it.  Pour 
forth  to  them  all  your  hearts,  your  sins,  your  temptations,  your 
difficulties,  your  fears,  and  your  hopes.  The  instructions,  which 
they  will  be  able  to  give  you  will  be  safe,  comforting,  full  of  hope, 
and  full  of  peace.  Their  counsels  will  be  a  light  to  your  feet, 
and  a  balm  to  your  wounds.  They  will  take  you  by  the  hand, 
lead  you  in  the  path  of  righteousness,  and  guide  you  towards 
Heaven. 

3.  We  also  learn  from  this  parable  the  miserable  situation  of 
Uuawakened  sinners. 

These  persons  have  not,  indeed,  incurred  all  the  guilt,  and  all 
the  danger,  of  those,  who  have  been  the  principal  subjects  of 
this  discourse.  Still,  their  condition  is,  and  is  here  exhibited  as 
being,  deplorable.  "  When  the  unclean  spirit  is  gone  out  of  a 
man,''''  says  our  Saviour.  The  departure  of  the  unclean  spirit,  if 
the  commentators,  to  whom  I  have  referred,  have  construed  the 
passage  aright,  is  the  era,  at  which  convictions  begin  in  the  soul. 
Of  course,  till  this  time  he  resided  there  in  quiet.     Think  what 


50  THE  DANGER  OF  LOSING,  inc.  fSER.  lU. 

it  is  for  the  soul  to  be  possessed  by  this  foul  and  dreadful  inhabit- 
ant ;  and  remember,  that  the  representation  is  that  of  Christ  him- 
self. It  is  therefore  just.  Sin  is  an  unclean  spirit,  of  sufficient 
subtilty,  foulness,  power  and  malignity,  to  corrupt  any  mind  be- 
yond the  hope  of  restoration.  In  the  case  supposed ;  the  case, 
as  there  is  but  too  much  reason  to  fear,  of  not  a  small  number  in 
this  house;  the  excessive  danger  lies  in  this  :  every  such  person 
is  at  ease  concerning  his  moral  condition. 

This  unclean  spirit  has  acquired  an  entire  ascendency  over 
him ;  and  dwells,  and  reigns,  in  his  heart  without  a  rival,  and 
without  an  attempt  to  resist  his  influence  or  to  escape  from  his 
dominion.  All  is  quiet,  and  silent,  within :  but  it  is  the  stillness 
of  death,  and  the  repose  of  the  grave. 

Be  roused  then,  to  a  sense  of  your  condition.  Open  your  eyes 
to  your  sins,  your  guilt,  your  approaching  ruin.  Feel,  that  you 
are  in  greater  danger,  because  you  suppose  yourselves  safe. 
Your  insensibility  is  the  torpor  of  the  apoplexy.  You  sleep  on 
the  top  of  a  mast ;  and  the  waves  of  perdition  roll  beneath  you. 
How  can  you  hope  to  escape,  if  you  will  not  so  much  as  open 
your  eyes  to  see  your  danger?  Remember  how  often  the  alarm 
has  been  rung  in  your  ears,  and  has  left  you  as  it  found  you,  cry- 
ing in  half-articulated  sounds  "  A  little  more  sleep  ;  a  little  more 
slumber  j  a  lictle  more  folding  of  the  hands  to  sleep.''''  You  have 
been  tenants  of  the  tomb ;  and  have  slumbered  over  the  pit  of 
"destruction.  If  you  are  not  lifeless  ;  if  you  are  not  hopeless ; 
listen.  The  voice  of  Inspiration  calls  to  you ;  "  Awake,  or  sleep, 
to  wake  no  more." 


SERMON  IV. 

THE  FOLLY  OF  TRUSTING  OUR  OWN  HEARTS. 


Proverbs  xxviii.  26, 

jHe,  that  trusteth  in  his  own  heart,  is  a  fool. 

'     In  the  examination,  which  I  propose  to  make  of  this  passage 
of  Scripture,  I  shall  consider, 

I.   What  is  meant  by  trusting  in  our  own  hearts. 
II.   The  folly  of  this  conduct. 

I.  What  is  meant  by  trusting  in  our  own  hearts. 

The  heart  is  phraseology,  often  used  in  the  Scriptures  to  de- 
note all  the  powers  of  the  soul;  the  imagination,  the  understanding, 
and  the  affections.  The  propriety  of  using  the  word  in  this  manner 
is  sufficiently  evident  from  the  consideration,  that  in  most  exer- 
cises of  the  soul  all  these  powers  are  unitedly  employed.  If  ca- 
ses exist,  in  which  one  of  these  powers  is  exercised  without  the 
others  ;  they  are  certainly  solitary  cases.  Usually,  at  leasts 
they  are  exerted  together ;  and  we  imagine,  reason,  and  feel,  at 
the  same  time.  In  this  extensive  sense  the  word  appears  to  be 
used  in  the  text. 

To  trust  in  our  hearts  is  obviously  to  be  assured,  or  at  least  to 
be  confident,  of  the  wisdom  and  rectitude,  of  the  various  plans 
ivhich  we  devise  for  our  conduct ;  and  to  feel  that  their  dictates 
may  be  safely  followed.  Whatever  may  be  the  object  in  view  ; 
the  man  in  the  case  supposed,  commits  himself  and  his  interests 
to  the  direction  of  his  heart;  and  is  satisfied,  that  it  will  conduct 
him  safely  and  successfully  to  that  which  is  good.  In  the  same 
manner  a  dutiful  child  confidently  commits  himself  and  all  his 
concerns,  to  the  parent  whom  he  loves.    The  parent  is  to  plan. 


52  THE  FOLLY  OF  TRUSTING  [SER.  IV 

and  to  control,  both  his  business  and  his  pleasure.  The  child  is 
only  to  conform  to  what  the  parent  prescribes.  In  the  same 
manner,  also,  a  pious  man  confides  in  his  Maker. 

But,  to  understand  this  subject  correctly,  as  well  as  compre- 
hensively, it  is  necessary,  thai  we  should  examine  it  somewhat 
more  minutely,  I  observe  therefore, 

1 .  That  to  trust  in  our  own  hearts  is  to  rely  on  our  wisdom  and 
prudence  in  the  common  concerns  of  life. 

God  has  taught  us,  that  in  the  multitude  of  counsellors  there 
is  safety ;  that,  ivhere  no  counsel  is,  the  people  fall ;  that  with- 
out counsel  purposes  are  disappointed,  and  that  by  counsel  every 
purpose  is  established  /  that  the  way  of  a  fool  is  right  in  his  own 
eyes  ;  and  that  he,  who  hearkeneth  unto  counsel,  is  wise. 

But  in  defiance  of  all  these  declarations  of  the  Infinite  mind, 
he,  who  trusteth  in  his  own  heart,  feels,  in  the  common  concerns 
of  life,  assured  that  he  possesses  sufficient  wisdom  to  direct  his 
business,  without  any  need  of  advice  from  others.  Mark  him 
with  a  little  attention ;  and  you  will  easily  discern,  that,  in  his 
own  view,  his  plans  are  laid  with  sufficient  skill  to  furnish  every 
necessary  promise  of  success.  Persons  of  this  character  often 
have  friends,  distinguished  for  knowledge,  experience  and  wis- 
dom ;  friends,  who,  if  applied  to,  would  kindly  and  cheerfully 
assist  them  with  their  best  advice,  and  with  the  highest  probabil- 
ity direct  them  in  the  happiest  way  for  the  attainment  of  their 
purposes.  But,  however  young,  inexperienced  or  ignorant,  them- 
selves are  ;  and  however  satisfied  of  the  wisdom  of  their  friends  ; 
they  are  often  wholly  indisposed  to  ask  advice  at  their  hands. 
Nay  the  younger,  the  more  inexperienced,  the  more  ignorant, 
they  are,  the  less  are  they  usually  disposed  either  to  ask  or  re- 
ceive advice,  and  the  more  inclined  to  rely  upon  their  own  wis- 
dom. Thus,  we  see,  children  in  the  early  stages  of  childhood 
hardly  ever  suspect,  that  they  need  any  direction  beside  their 
own.  Youths  begin  to  learn  their  incompetency  to  guide  them- 
selves. In  manhood  this  persuasion  very  evidently  increases  in 
strength  ;  and,  in  middle  age,  ordinarily  prompts  us  to  believe, 
that  by  counsel  every  purpose  is  established.     Thus,  the  more 


SER.  IV.]  OUR  OWN  HEARTS.  53 

able  we  become  to  direct  ourselves,  the  more  unwilling  we  are  to 
confide  in  this  direction,  and  the  more  inclined  to  seek  the  aid 
of  others.  Thus  our  self  sufficiency  declines,  as  our  experience 
and  our  consequent  wisdom  increase. 

Those,  who  are  young,  almost  always  know  better  than  their 
parents  how  to  avoid  danger ;  to  preserve  their  health ;  to  di- 
rect their  own  education  ;  and  to  pursue  the  best  and  safest  road 
to  real  happiness.  They  are  more  competent  to  choose  for  them- 
selves a  profession  ;  to  form  useful  plans  of  business ;  and  to  pur- 
sue them  with  skill  and  success. 

But  this  spirit  is  not  found  in  the  young  only.  The  number  is 
not  small  of  those,  whom  it  accompanies  through  life  ;  and  who 
are,  thus,  children  until  they  leave  the  world.  However  often 
they  are  deceived,  and  however  greatly  disappointed,  they  still 
go  on  with  an  uninterrupted  complacency  in  their  own  wisdom. 
They  have  failed,  it  is  true,  of  the  success,  which  they  promised 
themselves  in  their  past  plans  ;  but  they  are  not  less  sure  of  suc- 
ceeding in  their  future  enterprizes.  Misfortune,  hitherto,  has 
been  owing  not  to  their  own  want  of  prudence,  nor  to  any  im- 
perfection in  their  plans ;  but  to  a  series  of  unlucky  accidents,  or 
to  the  blunders  of  those  to  whom  the  execution  of  them  was 
unhappily  entrusted.  But  this  plainly  infers  no  reason,  why  they 
should  be  at  all  less  willing  to  confide  in  their  future  schemes. 
Thus  they  trust  in  themselves  just  in  the  same  manner,  as  if 
all  their  former  measures  had  been  only  prosperous. 

2.  To  trust  in  our  hearts  is  to  trust  in  our  own  Schemes  of 
religion. 

Persons  of  this  character  may  be  arranged  into  two  classes. 

The  first  of  these  consists  of  men^  who  form  religious  systems^ 
independently  of  the  Scriptures.  By  these  I  intend  Infidels^  of 
every  description.  Infidels,  as  you  know,  determine  that  the 
Scriptures  are  not  a  Revelation  from  God.  From  the  perempto- 
riness  with  which  this  determination  is  made,  the  confidence 
which  they  appear  to  place  in  their  decisions,  and  the  pretensions 
which  some  of  them  make  to  talents  and  learning ;  it  is  very 
frequently  supposed  that  this  important  question  has  often  passed 

Vol.  II.  8 


54  THE  FOLLY  OF  TRUSTING  [SER.  IV. 

in  review  before  them,  and  undergone  a  very  serious  and  thorough 
examination.  Nothing,  however,  is  in  most  cases  farther  from 
the  truth.  Very  few  even  of  those  who  are  professed  champions 
in  this  cause,  have  investigated  the  subject  with  an  attention,  re- 
motely approximating  to  that  which  it  deserves.  When  the 
question  is  concerning  the  existence  of  a  Revelation,  professedly 
disclosing  the  will  of  God  concerning  the  future  destiny  of  man  ; 
its  very  nature  demands  of  all  men  the  most  solemn  care,  and 
the  most  critical  inquiry.  As  all  our  interests  are  suspended  on 
the  decision  ;  as  annihilation  and  immortal  existence  form  the 
first  alternative,  and  the  glories  of  heaven  and  the  miseries  of 
hell,  the  second,  in  our  answer  to  this  question,  common  sense 
imperiously  demands  that  we  approach  it  with  feelings  of  the 
highest  solemnity,  examine  it  with  the  most  vigilant  inquisition, 
and  decide  it  with  unimpeachable  impartiality.  Were  we  able, 
indeed,  to  change  the  state  of  things  by  our  determinations  ; 
could  we  exist  or  be  annihilated,  could  we  be  happy  or  miserable, 
at  our  pleasure  ;  it  v/ould  be  sufficient,  that  our  decision  should 
be  peremptory.  B^lt,  since  the  change,  actually  wrought,  is  only 
made  in  ourselves,  and  not  in  the  purposes  of  God  ;  since  we 
shall  exist,  or  not  exist,  the  heirs  of  endless  glory,  or  endless  per- 
dition, as  he  pleases  ;  it  is  evident,  that,  if  we  answer  the  ques- 
tion lightly,  falsely,  or  without  sufficient  proof,  we  answer  it  at 
our  peril.  How  plainly,  then,  ought  it  to  be  answered  by  every 
man,  as  one  who  shall  give  an  account. 

In  violent  opposition  to  all  this,  however,  it  has  been  customa- 
rily answered  by  confident  assertions  ;  by  a  sarcasm,  a  sneer,  a 
laugh,  a  profane  oath,  or  even  a  curse.  Men  of  the  world,  men 
of  business,  devotees  to  pleasure,  persons  uneducated,  striplings, 
nay  even  children,  decide  this  tremendous  question  in  the  same 
catesorical  manner,  as  if  their  answer  were  the  result  of  dem- 
onstration. Have  they  examined  it  ?  No.  Have  they  read  ?  No. 
Have  they  thought  ?  No.  Whence,  then,  do  they  boldly  deter- 
mine on  a  question  so  momentous?  They  trust  in  their  own  hearts. 
They  were  born  with  such  capacities  ;  their  qualities  are  of  a 
cast,  so  superior  to  the  common  attributes  of  men ;  that  without 


SER.  IV.]  OUR  OWN  HEARTS.  55 

reading,  conversation,  or  reflection,  they  can  solve  a  questioii 
which  demands  more  thought,  learning  and  knowledge,  than 
they  can  comprehend.  All  wise  men,  who  are  acquainted  with 
them,  see,  that  they  are  totally  incompetent  for  the  task  which 
they  have  undertaken.  But  in  their  own  view  there  are  no  abler 
judges.  Ask  them  ;  and  they  are  giants  in  intellect.  Ask  oth- 
ers ;  and  they  are  embryos. 

Secondly.  In  this  class  are  those  arranged  also,  who  profess 
to  believe,  that  the  Scriptures  are  a  divine  revelation,  and  yet,  in- 
stead of  making  them  the  rule  of  their  faith,  ijivent_,^and  adopt 
a  philosophical  system  of  religion  ;  and  in  preience  support  it 
by  the  Scriptures. 

These  persons  professedly  believe,  and  some  of  them,  I  doubt 
not,  persuade  themselves  that  they  actually  believe,  the  scriptures 
to  be  the  word  of  God,  and  to  contain  his  pleasure  concerning 
the  duty  and  salvation  of  men.  Of  course,  it  would  be  naturally 
supposed,  they  resort  daily  and  diligently  to  this  fountain  of  truth, 
in  order  to  learn  their  duty,  and  the  way  of  life.  Nothing  can 
be  farther  from  the  fact.  Instead  of  betaking  themselves  to  their 
Maker,  to  learn  the  Religion  which  he  has  revealed,  they  form 
a  system  of  doctrines  and  precepts  for  themselves  ;  and  then  re- 
sort to  the  Scriptures  for  texts,  to  support  it.  Instead  of  com- 
ing to  God,  to  learn  his  pleasure,  they  first  determine  what  his 
pleasure  ought  to  be,  and  then  compel  his  word,  by  perverting 
its  meaning,  to  speak  whatever  they  themselves  please.  Instead 
of  receiving  their  religion  from  their  Creator  they  make  a  reli- 
gion for  him ;  and  expect  that  he  will  conform  to  its  dictates. 

The  true  explanation,  the  real  cause,  of  this  conduct  is  that 
these  men  trust  in  their  own  hearts  ;  that  they  rely  on  their  own 
ingenuity,  their  knowledge  of  moral  subjects,  their  capacity  to 
devise  a  system  of  moral  truth ;  no  less  than  professed  Infidelso 

If  we  profess  to  beheve  the  Scriptures,  as  a  Revelation  from 
God  ;  there  can  be  no  greater  absurdity,  there  can  be  no  greater 
indecency,  than  not  to  receive  his  declarations  just  as  we  find 
them.  Who  hath  known  the  mind  of  Jehovah  ?  or  who  hath 
been  his  Counsellor  ?     Shall  a  worm  of  the  dust  instruct  his  Ma- 


56  THE  FOLLY  OF  TRUSTING  [SER.  IV. 

ker  ;  pervert  his  truth  ;  substitute  for  it  his  own  errors ;  and  by 
annexing  to  it  meanings,  which  He  never  intended,  change  it, 
as  did  the  philosophers  of  old,  into  a  lie  ? 

A  system  of  Religion  involves  in  it  the  Character,  Govern- 
ment, and  Designs,  of  God  ;  the  nature,  interests,  and  duty,  of 
man ;  a  future  existence,  and  its  mighty  concerns ;  the  means 
of  pardon,  justification,  and  final  acceptance;  and  the  means, 
also,  of  perseverance  in  our  duty  unto  the  end.  How  plain  is 
it,  that  no  mind,  less  than  infinite,  is  able  to  comprehend  these 
immeasurable  subjects.  Who,  beside  God,  can  understand  his 
nature  ?  Whose  eye  can  penetrate  into  the  recesses  of  the  Un- 
created mind,  and  discern  his  views  of  moral  objects  ?  The 
manner,  in  which  he  regards  holiness,  and  sin?  the  reward,  which 
he  will  render  to  those,  who  are  the  subjects  of  the  opposite  at- 
tributes. The  terms  on  which  he  will  accept,  and  the  manner 
in  which  he  will  restore,  sinners  ?  Or  whether  he  will  accept,  or 
restore,  them  at  all  ?  Who  can  determine  whether  God  will  ac- 
cept any  worship  from  sinners  ?  Who,  independantly  of  his  de- 
clarations, can  tell  whether  there  is  any  future  reward,  or  even 
any  future  being  ? 

How  obvious  is  it,  that,  after  all  the  expectations,  labours,  and 
boasts,  of  man  on  these  mighty  subjects  of  investigation,  the  ut- 
most which  he  has  hitherto  done,  and  therefore  certainly  the 
utmost  which  he  ever  will  do,  is  merely  to  form  ingenious  conjec- 
tures ?  But  is  the  soul  of  man  to  be  set  afloat  upon  a  guess  ? 
Who,  that  was  not  a  fair  candidate  for  bedlam,  would  hazard 
even  his  property,  nay  his  pleasure,  upon  an  absolute  uncertain- 
ty ?  Who,  bound  upon  a  voyage,  in  which  he  was  to  venture 
himself  and  all  his  interests,  would  launch  into  an  illimitable 
ocean  upon  a  plank  ? 

But,  were  all  this  less  obvious,  it  should  seem  impossible  for 
mankind  not  to  learn  the  truth,  for  which  I  contend,  from  the 
voice  of  experience.  Innumerable  attempts  have  been  contin- 
ually made  both  by  those  who  professedly  believe,  and  those  who 
openly  disbelieve,  the  Scriptures.  Hitherto  they  have  only  made 
shipwreck  of  the  moral  system.     In  all  the  schemes  of  doctrine 


SER.  IV.]  OUR  OWN  HEARTS.  57 

which  they  have  contrived,  they  have  furnished  nothing  on  which 
a  sober  man  could  for  a  moment  venture  his  salvation.  Not  one 
of  them  has  discovered  any  means  of  expiating  sin,  obtaining 
justification  for  sinners,  or  securing,  or  even  rendering  probable, 
their  admission  into  the  favour  of  God.  All  the  reliance  of  these 
men  has  been  placed  on  undefined,  unsupported,  and  absolutely 
imcertain,  hopes  of  mercy,  of  which  neither  experience,  reason 
nor  analogy,  has  hitherto  been  able  to  produce  the  least  evidence. 
To  commit  the  soul  to  such  a  refuge,  to  lean  for  safety  on  such 
a  reed,  is  to  put  our  all  at  hazard  with  a  spirit  of  desperation. 

But  what  men,  so  numerous,  ingenious,  laborious,  and  per- 
severing, have  never  been  able  to  do,  will  never  be  done  by  any 
man.  He,  who  will  not  admit  this  conclusion,  from  premises 
which  so  obviously  involve  it,  rejects  it  not  from  conviction,  nor 
even  from  plausible  arguments,  but  from  mere  self  sufficiency. 
Nothing  else  will  persuade  him,  that  he  is  able  to  accomplish  a 
work,  to  which  the  powers  of  all  his  fellow  men  have  been  une- 
qual. Nothing  else,  indeed,  could  induce  him  even  to  enter  upon 
an  employment,  so  absolutely  and  so  evidently  hopeless. 

3.  Another  specimen  of  trusting  in  our  own  hearts  is  confiding 
in  the  goodness  of  our  moral  character. 

This  exercise  of  self  sufficiency  is  manifested  in  many  forms, 
and  varieties.     Of  these  the 

First,  which  I  shall  mention,  is  believing  more  favourably  con- 
cerning  ourselves  than  truth  will  warrant. 

This  unhappy  error  is  not  confined  to  sinners  :  it  is  found  but 
too  frequently  in  men,  who  present  us  many  reasons  to  ac- 
knowledge them  as  Christians. 

Wicked  men  often  believe  themselves  to  be  virtuous,  not  only 
without,  but  against  evidence  ;  and  from  mere  self  sufficiency. 
Were  they  to  examine  themselves  with  either  care  or  candour : 
they  would  find  nothing,  on  which,  in  their  own  view,  this  opin- 
ion could  rest  even  with  plausibility.  Reason  demands,  the 
Scriptures  demand,  their  own  eternal  interests  loudly  demand, 
that  they  should  search  both  their  hearts,  and  their  lives,  with 
unceasing  diligence,  deep  solicitude,  and   entire  impartiality : 


58  THE  FOLLY  OF  TKUSTiNG  L^ER.  IV. 

that  they  should  anxiously  consuh  others,  especially  men  of  ac- 
knowleged  wisdom  and  goodness,  concerning  their  moral  condi- 
tion ;  and  above  all,  that  they  should  bring  their  character  for 
trial  to  the  Gospel ;  the  great  touchstone  of  righteousness.  What- 
ever they  do,  or  can  do,  short  of  this,  is  merely  the  result  of  con- 
fidence in  their  own  hearts.  Until  this  is  done,  they  will  only  de- 
ceive themselves.  Until  this  is  done,  they  may  indeed,  in  their 
own  view,  liave  a  name  to  live^  but  they  will  be  really  dead.  Were 
it  effectually  done ;  the  delusion  would  vanish ;  and  one  ground  of 
hope  would  be  actually  gained,  that  they  might  hereafter  change 
both  their  condition,  and  their  character,  for  the  better. 

With  the  same  conduct  good  men,  to  an  extent  which  is  not 
small,  are  chargeable  also.  I  wish,  it  were  in  our  power  to  deny 
this  humiliating  position.  But,  if  we  adhere  to  truth,  we  shall  be 
obliged  to  confess,  that  even  such  men  often  beheve  themselves 
to  be  much  better  than  they  really  are. 

Young  converts,  true  converts,  possessing  real  and  evangelical 
worth,  are  in  this  respect  frequently  unhappy.  Their  feelings  are 
warm  and  vigorous;  their  imaginations  active;  and  their  reli- 
gious experience  almost  nothing.  The  dictates  of  their  imagina- 
tion they  easily  and  not  unwillingly  mistake  for  the  decisions  of 
sound  judgment ;  and  the  impulse  of  their  passions,  for  the  glow 
of  evangelical  love.  On  these  sands  they  build  their  hopes  and 
estimates  of  their  religious  character.  Of  such  dictates  and  im- 
pulses, they  indeed  have  many  :  and  were  they  sound  evidence  of 
this  great  point,  the  true  character  of  the  persons  in  question 
would,  in  a  less  degree,  be  misapprehended  by  themselves.  But 
alas  !  these  things  have  nothing  to  do  with  religion.  They  are 
pressed  into  the  service  ;  and  are  made  to  evince  that,  to  which 
they  have  no  reference,  and  can  have  no  application. 

What  is  true  of  these  converts  is  true  of  multitudes  of  religious 
men,  who  possess  the  same  vigor  of  fancy,  and  the  same  warmth 
of  feeling.  Particularly  is  it  the  case  with  ignorant  Christians. 
In  them  often,  feeling  is  neither  balanced  nor  regulated  by  those 
sound,  rational  views  of  the  evangelical  system,  which  more 
knowledge  of  it,  and  a  superior  capacity  of  judging,  would  fur- 


SER.  IV.3  OUR  OWN  HEARTS.  59 

nish.  The  real  evidences  of  piety  tliey  imperfectly  collect,  im- 
perfectly compare,  and  of  course  imperfectly  understand.  Thus 
situated,  they  remain  in  a  sense  young  converts  while  they  live. 
Yet  in  numerous  instances  they  prove  by  their  conversation  and 
behaviour,  that  they  think  themselves  strong  men  in  Christ ; 
while  all  the  discerning  Christians  around  them  clearly  perceive, 
that  they  are  mere  babes.  Often  they  discuss,  and  decide  upon, 
subjects  of  high  import,  which  lie  beyond  their  reach.  Often 
they  dictate  religious  measures  to  those,  who  are  greatly  their 
superiours  in  every  evangehcal  attainment.  Sometimes  they  un- 
dertake to  lead  the  devotions  of  public  assemblies,  from  a  per- 
suasion, not  unfrequently  awakened  and  cherished  by  other  igno- 
rant men,  that  they  are  endowed  with  extraordinary  gifts,  and 
have  acquired  an  eminent  degree  of  holiness.  Nay  numbers  of 
such  men  enter  the  desk,  without  any  preparation  for  an  office, 
so  solemn  and  so  difficult  as  that  of  a  minister  of  the  Gospel. 
Here,  unlearned  and  unstable  as  they  are,  they  frequently  wrest 
the  Scriptures  to  the  very  serious  injury  of  themselves,  and  the 
destruction  of  others.  ''^  I  command  every  man  among  you,''''  says 
St.  Paul,  '■'■riot  to  think  of  himself  more  highly  than  he  ought  to 
think,  but  to  think  soberly,'^''  (or  with  a  sound  judgment,)  '■'■accord- 
ing as  God  hath  dealt  to  every  man  the  measure  of  faith.''''  "  Love 
vaunteth  not  itself  and  is  not  puffed  up.''''  '■'■If  aman  thinketh 
himself  something,  when  he  is  nothing,  he  deceiveth  himself.  But 
let  every  man  prove  his  own  work  ;  (that  is  examine  what  he  has 
done ;  and  from  that  trial,  not  from  his  feelings,  learn  his  true 
character)  "  and  then,''''  says  the  Apostle,  "  he  shall  have  rejoicing 
in  himself,  and.  not  in  another.'''' 

'•'■My  brethren,''''  says  St.  James,  "  be  not  many  teachers  ;  know- 
ing, that  we  shall  receive  the  greater  condemnation.''''  In  other 
words,  this  is  the  way  to  expose  ourselves  to  that  greater  con- 
demnation. 

It  deserves  to  be  remarked,  that  all  superstitious  persons, 
and  all  enthusiasts,  have  ever  been  of  this  character,  and  pur- 
sued this  unhappy  conduct.  This,  certainly,  ought  to  be  enough, 
and  more  than  enough,  to  warn  every  Christian  of  his  danger 


60  THE  FOLLY  OF  TRUSTING  [SER.  IV. 

from  this  source ;  especially,  Avhen  it  is  remembered  on  the  other 
hand,  that  the  best  and  wisest  Christians,  who  have  lived,  have 
uniformly  been  the  most  humble  and  self  denying. 

Secondly.  To  expect  justification  before  God  on  account  of 
our  own  righteousness  is  another  specimen  of  the  same  character. 
Such  an  expectation  cannot  be  derived  either  from  reason,  or 
revelation.  Revelation  declares  such  a  justification  to  be  impos- 
sible ;  and  as  if  aware,  that  we  should  hardly  be  satisfied  with  the 
bare  testimony  even  of  God  himself,  condescends  to  prove  the 
point  by  arguments,  which  are  irresistible.  We  are  there  shown 
to  have  violated  the  law  of  God,  and  to  be  condemned  by  its 
irreversible  sentence  to  suffer  its  penalty.  With  equal  clearness 
is  it  proved,  that  no  means  of  expiation  are  in  our  power.  The 
very  services,  to  which  we  should  naturally  resort  as  such  means, 
are  declared  to  be  so  far  from  constituting  an  expiation,  that  they 
are  in  themselves  sinful,  and  therefore  need  to  be  expiated.  In- 
stead of  becoming  means  of  our  deliverance,  therefore,  they  only 
plunge  us  deeper  in  guilt. 

To  this  unanswerable  proof  Reason  subjoins  her  testimony. 
She  acknowledges  both  the  sin,  and  the  condemnation  ;  and  con- 
fesses, that  the  way  for  our  escape  is  forever  barred.  With  sighs, 
and  tears,  she  mourns  over  our  miserable  apostacy ;  and  exclaims 
"  We  are  all  as  an  unclean  thing  ;  and  all  our  righteousnesses 
are  as  filthy  rags  :  and  we  all  do  fade  as  a  leaf:  and  our  iniqui- 
ties^ like  the  wind,  have  taken  us  away  /" 

But  self  sufficiency  sees  the  way  clear,  to  the  attainment  of 
this  mighty  object ;  and  the  proofs,  which  she  summons  to  her 
aid,  miserable  as  they  are,  are  yet  strong  enough  to  satisfy  her 
wishes,  to  minister  to  the  soul  comfort  and  hope,  and  to  prevent 
it  from  seeking  the  justification,  disclosed  in  the  Gospel. 

Thirdly.  Another  example  of  the  same  character  is  exhibited 
in  the  Confidence,  with  which  toe  feel  ourselves  to  be  secure 
against  such  Temptations,  as  have  usually  overcome  others. 

This  confidence,  extensively  as  it  is  cherished,  is  a  violation  of 
all  good  sense,  and  a  contradiction  to  all  experience.  On  what 
is  it  founded  ?  On  the  apprehension  which  we  entertain,  that 


SER.  IV.]  OUR  OWN  HEARTS.  61 

we  possess  more  prudence,  firmness,  and  worth,  than  any,  or  all 
of  those  who  have  become  victims  to  such  temptations.  What 
proofs  have  we  that  we  possess  this  character  ?  None.  What 
is  the  sentence  of  Reason  ?  That  self-confident  men  are  always 
in  danger,  and  most  easily  overcome.  What  is  that  of  scrip- 
ture ?  "  Let  him^  that  thinketh  he  standeth,  take  heed  lest  hefalV 

Fourthly.  Another  example  of  confiding  in  the  goodness  of 
our  moral  character  is  exhibited  in  the  postponement  of  liepen' 
tance  to  a  future  day. 

There  are  two  principal  causes  of  this  procrastination.  We 
dislike  the  business  to  be  done ;  and  feel  secure^  that  we  shall  be 
both  able  and  willing  to  do  it  hereafter.  Both  shew  in  a  strong 
light  the  miserable  overweening  of  the  procrastinator.  Were 
he  not  blind ;  he  would  discern  that  these  reasons  will  exist  at 
every  future  period.  We  dislike  repentance  because  we  love 
sin.  But  we  shall  love  sin  to  morrow,  and  every  succeeding  day; 
and  love  it  with  continually  increasing  strength.  It  will  there- 
fore prevent  us  from  repenting  to  morrow,  as  it  has  done  to  day. 
All  human  experience  proves  this,  beyond  every  reasonable 
doubt.  Yet  in  defiance  of  this  experience  in  himself,  and  in  all 
other  men,  the  procrastinator  secretly  believes  that  to  morrow  he 
shall  love  sin  less,  and  be  more  willing  to  become  a  penitent. 
What  is  to  produce  this  change  in  his  character  ?  The  mere 
flux  of  time  ;  the  revolutions  of  the  sun  ;  the  circuits  of  the  mi- 
nute hand  on  the  face  of  a  clock.  But  when,  and  where,  have 
men  become  more  prepared  to  repent  by  merely  growing  older  ? 
The  procrastinator  himself  may  not  improbably  answer,  "  Nev- 
er." Whence,  then,  does  he  expect  to  become  a  penitent  on 
some  future  day  ?  From  his  own  peculiar  wisdom,  and  forecast; 
perfectly  inefficacious  to  accomplish  the  end  now,  but  by  some 
magical  process  to  be  made  completely  efficacious  at  that  happy 
period.  How  plainly  is  this  expectation  an  abuse  of  all  the  dic- 
tates of  common  sense,  and  common  experience.  What  an  in- 
sult is  it  on  the  word  of  God !  It  is  to  trust,  as  the  drunkard  trusts, 
that  the  present  cup  will  lead  him  back  to  sobriety  ;  or,  as  the 
thief,  that  stealing  will  make  him  an  honest  man. 
Vol.  II.  9 


62  THE  FOLLY  OF  TRUSTING  [SER.  IV. 

II.  /  will  now  endeavour  to  shew  the  Folly  of  trusting  in  our 
own  hearts. 

1 .  In  the  common  business  of  life  it  is  certainly  not  true,  that 
our  measures  discover  the  superiour  wisdom  and  prudence,  which 
we  challenge  in  our  religious  concerns.  Were  we  to  make  the 
attempt,  we  should  be  greatly  at  a  loss  for  evidence  that  we  rise 
above  the  average  character  of  man.  By  those  around  us  it  will 
certainly  not  be  acknowledged.  Nor  is  it  evidenced  by  any  pecu- 
liar success  in  the  execution  of  our  plans.  What  then  is  the 
proof  that  it  is  just  ?  The  only  answer  is,  "  Our  own  opinion." 
By  whom  do  we  see  this  opinion  most  frequently  and  most  forci- 
bly manifested  ?  The  proverbial  answer  of  common  sense  is,  "  By 
children  and  fools."  Do  those,  who  by  the  public  opinion,  and 
their  own  success,  are  proved  wise,  exhibit  it  more,  or  less,  than 
others.  Every  one  of  us  will  be  obliged  to  answer,  "  The  least, 
of  all  men."  In  our  self-sufficiency,  then,  we  are  contrasted  to 
the  wise,  and  resemble  children  and  fools. 

What  say  the  Scriptures  ?  The  text  gives  the  answer.  If  that 
is  not  sufficient,  they  add  with  still  more  pungency,  "  Seest  thou 
a  man  wise  in  his  own  conceit  ?  There  is  more  hope  of  a  fool  than 
of  him.''''  The  only  argument,  which  can  be  alledged  in  the 
case,  is  that  with  which  enthusiasts  bolster  themselves.  They 
are  possessed  of  divine  communications,  because  they  know  it ; 
and  they  know  it,  because  they  possess  them.  Deplorable  proof 
of  a  deplorable  opinion  ! 

To  trust  in  rehgious  systems,  devised  by  ourselves,  is  to  contra- 
dict Common  sense.  It  is  impossible,  that  these  systems  should 
be  true.  We  do  not,  and  cannot,  possess  the  knowledge  which 
is  indispensable  to  the  formation  of  a  system  of  religion.  We 
cannot  know  the  things,  out  of  which  the  system  must  be  com- 
posed. We  know  neither  the  character  of  God  ;  nor  his  will ; 
nor  his  designs  ;  nor  the  rules,  by  which  he  is  to  be  worshipped  ; 
nor  the  rules  of  our  conduct ;  nor  the  means  of  salvation  ;  nor 
the  attainableness  of  it  by  any  means  whatever.  Without 
these  materials  a  religious  system  is  nothing.  But  to  attempt  to 
form  such  a  system,  without  possesing  the  materials  of  which  it 


SER.  IV.]  OUR  OWN  HEARTS.  63 

is  to  be  constituted,  is  to  build  a  house,  without  timber,  brick,  or 
stone.  Fools  only  can  be  thus  employed.  Nor  are  those,  who, 
■professing  to  believe  the  Scriptures,  pervert  their  declarations, 
in  order  to  support  schemes  of  religion,  devised  by  themselves, 
less  openly  at  war  with  common  sense,  than  Infidels  themselves. 
In  this  case,  a  being  of  yesterday  rejects  the  counsels  of  the  Eter- 
nal God ;  acknowledges  them  to  be  his,  and  substitutes  in  their 
place  his  own  imaginations.  A  worm  lifts  up  his  crest,  and  de- 
clares himself  wiser  than  his  Maker. 

Equally  evident  is  the  folly  of  those,  who  confide  in  the  good- 
ness of  their  moral  character.  We  are  not  thus  good.  Sinners 
are  sinners  only.  Righteous  men  are  far  less  excellent  than  they 
are  prone  to  think  themselves ;  and  ought  always,  when  pon- 
dering their  own  character,  to  let  their  remaining  corruptions 
hold  a  prominent  place  in  their  thoughts.  "  /  am  unworthy  of 
the  least  of  all  thy  mercies,''''  said  Jacob.  "  Behold,  I  am  vile, 
what  shall  I  answer  thee  .^"  said  Job  to  his  Maker.  "  Behold  I 
was  shapen  in  iniquity,  and  in  sin  did  my  mother  conceive  me,''"' 
said  David.  "  To  me  belongeth  shame,  and  confusion  of  face 
because  I  have  sinned,''''  said  Daniel.  "  O  wretched  man  that  I 
am!  who  shall  deliver  me  from  the  body  of  this  death?''''  said 
St.  Paul.  So  have  said  all  the  pious  of  every  age  :  and,  the 
the  more  pious,  the  more  have  they  adopted  the  language  of  this 
humility. 

2dly.     It  is  folly  because  it  is  ruinous. 

"  Pride  goeth  before  destruction,  and  a  haughty  spirit,  before  a 
falV'  This  inscription  may  with  exact  propriety  be  written  upon 
every  determination,  and  every  effort,  of  self  confidence  :  For  it  is 
the  general  sentence  of  God  on  the  spirit  itself,  and  on  all  its  un- 
dertakings. Evils  ever  present,  and  by  a  self-sufiicient  spirit  ever 
unforeseen,  arrest  the  proud,  vain  man  in  all  the  common  business  of 
life :  and  against  them  he  has  made  no  provision.  When  warned  of 
his  danger,  he  only  replies  with  the  Pharisees,  '■^  Am  I  blind  also?'''' 
Hence  he  falls  into  a  pit,  which,  if  he  would  have  opened  his 
eyes,  he  might  have  shunned ;  and  is  entangled  in  snares,  which 
men  more  modest  and  cautious  easily  escape. 


64  THE  FOLLY  OE  TRUSTING  [SER.  IV. 

In  all  the  religious  cases,  which  I  have  specified  the  evil  is  still 
more  certain,  as  well  as  more  dreadful.  False  schemes  of  reli- 
gion are  of  course  fatal  schemes.  To  trust  in  them  is  to  tt^ust 
in  refuges  of  lies,  which  the  hail  shall  sweep  away.  Truth,  only, 
can  conduct  us  to  heaven,  or  to  God  ;  and  human  schemes  of 
religion  are  of  course  not  true.  God  will  accept  us  on  his  own 
terms  only,  if  at  all :  and  these  terms  man  cannot  discover. 

Besides,  a  self  sufficient  proud  spirit  is  pre-eminently  odious 
to  God.  Pride  was  the  sin  of  the  fallen  angels.  It  was  the  sin 
of  our  first  parents.  It  is  the  sin  of  us,  their  children.  It  turned 
those  angels  out  of  heaven.  It  ruined  Adam,  and  his  posterity. 
It  will  not,  therefore,  restore  us  to  the  favour  of  God. 

REMARKS. 

1st.  From  these  observations  we  learn  that  Humility  is  a  prime 
duty,  and  interest,  of  man. 

Humility  is  merely  a  just  sense  of  our  character  and  circum- 
stances,  and  a  disposition  conformed  to  it :  a  willingness  to  be- 
lieve and  to  feel,  that  we  are  what  we  really  are.  Think  then,  I 
beseech  you,  what  we  are.  We  sprang  from  the  dust  yesterday  : 
to  morrow  we  go  to  the  grave.  Our  knowledge  is  Hmited  to  a 
few,  a  very  few  objects ;  and  bounded  by  a  span.  At  the  same 
time  it  is  mingled  with  a  multitude  of  errors  ;  always  mischiev- 
ous, and  very  often  fatal.  Truth  is  invariably  one  and  the  same 
thing.  But  how  widely  diverse  from  one  another  are  human 
opinions  ;  and  how  widely  diverse,  of  course,  except  a  single 
system  of  opinions  from  truth.  That  all,  but  this  system,  are 
erroneous  is  mathematically  certain.  Whether  that  system  is 
true,  is  yet  to  be  determined.  Such  is  the  state  of  our  boasted 
reason.  Our  disposition  is  even  more  unhappy  than  our  intel- 
lect. Ourselves  we  abuse,  corrupt,  and  destroy.  Our  fellow 
men  we  envy,  hate,  deceive,  defraud,  and  oppress.  God  we  ei- 
ther absolutely  forget,  or  insult  with  impiety,  ingratitude,  and 
rebellion.  Thus  our  character  is  odious,  shameful  and  sinful,  in 
his  sight,  and  in  our  own.     He  has  most  mercifully  offered  to  re- 


SER.  IV.]  OUR  OWN  HEARTS.  65 

store  us  to  piety,  and  to  endless  life,  through  the  redemption  of 
his  Son,  and  the  benevolent  agency  of  his  holy  Spirit.  But  we 
reject  the  offer,  disbelieve  his  Son,  and  resist  the  influence  of  his 
spirit.  Our  life,  in  the  mean  time,  is  a  course  of  frailty,  disease, 
pain,  sorrow,  and  disappointment.  The  world  is  a  vale  of  tears, 
leading  to  the  grave,  to  the  judgment,  and  to  everlasting  woe. 
Of  what,  then,  shall  man  be  proud?  Of  his  origin;  his  ignorance; 
his  errors  ;  his  guilt ;  his  misery  ;  or  his  end?  What  greater  fol- 
ly can  be  conceived  than  this  ?  How  plainly  ought  such  beings 
to  be  humble  ?  How  loudly  do  their  character,  and  their  circum- 
stances, demand  of  them  humility  ? 

Humility  renders  us  lovely.  It  recommends  us  to  God  :  it 
isecures  us  the  esteem  of  our  fellow  men :  it  reconciles  us  to 
ourselves.  Every  eye,  which  looks  on,  perceives  its  beauty  :  eve- 
ry heart  responds  to  its  excellence. 

At  the  same  time,  it  is  immeasurably  profitable.  It  prepares 
us  to  perceive  and  welcome  truth  ;  evangelical  truth  ;  truth,  of 
infinite  importance  to  us  ;  breaks  down  our  most  obstinate  and 
dangerous  prejudices  ;  makes  us  willing  to  perform  our  duty  ; 
and  fits  us  for  endless  life.  Humility,  therefore,  is  true  wisdom  ; 
indispensable  to  our  well-being,  in  time  and  eternity. 

2dly.  These  observations  teach  us  the  chief  origin  of  infidel- 
ity, and  heresy. 

St.  Paul  long  since  styled  infidelity  "  philosophy  and  vain  de- 
eeit :"  a  Hebraism  to  express  a  vain  and  deceitful  philosophy. 
Arrogance  began  this  scheme  of  thinking  ;  and  arrogance  has 
brought  it  down  to  the  present  time.  The  whole  body  of  infi- 
dels have  ever  been  distinguished  by  their  self  conceit  from  all 
other  classes  of  men.  Pride  rises,  as  a  scum,  on  all  their  books, 
and  on  all  their  conversation.  The  vanity,  which  they  discover 
in  their  treatment  of  the  Scriptures,  and  of  their  fellow  men,  is 
rank  and  fetid.  Contempt,  insolence,  ridicule,  and  sneers,  are 
the  weapons,  with  which  they  attack  truth  and  Christianity,  and 
with  which  they  arm  themselves  against  God.  Who  would  sus- 
pect that  beings,  who  lift  so  lofty  a  crest,  were  worms,  just  ush- 
ered into  existence,  creeping  through  their  little  day  of  life,  and 


66  THE  FOLLY  OF  TRUSTING  [SER.  IV. 

returning  at  night  to  the  dust  from  which  they  sprang.  Who 
would  suspect  that  they  were  poor,  and  miserable,  and  naked, 
and  bhnd,  and  in  want  of  all  things.  Who  would  mistrust,  that 
all  this  loftiness  of  character,  these  boasts  of  self  conceit,  be- 
long to  creatures  putrid  with  sin,  loathsome  in  the  sight  of  God, 
and  destined  to  perdition. 

Almost  all  the  ancient  heretics,  says  Dr.  Lardner,  were  phi- 
losophers. Such,  to  an  equal  extent,  have  been  those  of  mod- 
ern times.  These  men,  now,  as  in  all  preceding  periods,  pro- 
fessedly receive  the  Scriptures,  and  then  set  them  aside  ;  make 
a  system  of  religion,  and  then  attribute  it  to  God.  Deplorable 
impiety  !  Wonderful  lunacy  !  How  few  of  the  scenes  of  bedlam 
exhibit  so  entire  a  destitution  of  reason,  or  so  bewildered  a  do- 
mination of  the  passions  of  the  human  heart. 

3dly.  We  learn  from  these  observations,  one  of  the  principal 
sources  of  the  practical  unbelief,  and  the  final  ruin,  of  sinners 
ivho  specidatively  believe  the  Gospel. 

All  these  men  trust  in  their  own  hearts  ;  and  are  fools  in  this 
confidence.  Most  of  them,  perhaps  every  one,  intend  ultimately 
to  obey  the  Scriptures,  and  turn  to  God.  Now,  however,  they 
are  not  ready  :  but  the  golden  season  is  on  the  wing,  is  in  full 
view,  and  is  daily  approaching,  in  which  all  things  will  be  per- 
fectly prepared  for  the  accomplishment  of  this  great  purpose, 
acknowledged  even  by  them  to  be  indispensable.  It  is  a  day, 
formed  in  the  womb  of  time  with  auspices  peculiarly  happy  :  the 
very  contrast  to  the  day  of  Job''s  birth,  as  it  appeared  to  his  dis- 
tempered imagination.  It  has  been  named  by  God  himself,  as 
they  would  fondly  believe,  the  accepted  time,  and  the  day  of  sal- 
vation. Every  sinner  has  such  a  day,  which  his  Maker  has  espe- 
cially destined  to  his  own  use :  a  day,  in  which  all  the  obstacles  to 
his  repentance  will  be  removed.  To  this  delightful.  Paradisiacal 
period  he  refers,  and  feels  that  he  may  safely  refer,  the  momen- 
tous concern  of  providing  for  the  immortal  life  of  his  own  soul. 
How  melancholy  is  it,  that  this  Elysian  season  never  arrives ; 
that  no  sinner  ever  finds  it ;  that  on  it  no  sinner  ever  repented  ; 
that,  if  his  repentance  be  delayed  in  expectation  of  it,  it  is  de- 


SER.  IV.]  OUR  OWN  HEARTS.  67 

layed  forever,  unless  God  should  arrest  him  in  his  progress,  and 
awake  him  out  of  the  delirious  slumbers  of  procrastination. 

This  conduct  has  been  the  ruin  of  milUons  of  our  race  ;  and 
will  but  too  probably  be  the  ruin  of  milHons  more,  who  might  oth- 
erwise be  saved.  The  broad  and  crooked  path,  ivhich  leadeth  to 
destruction,  groans  under  the  crowd  of  procrastinators.  The 
confidence,  which  they  feel  in  their  future  sufficiency  to  repent, 
has  destroyed  more  than  the  sword,  the  famine,  or  the  pestilence. 
Because  sentence  against  an  evil  work  is  not  executed  speedily, 
the  heart  of  the  sons  of  men  is  fully  set  in  them  to  do  evil ;  and 
madness  is  in  their  hearts  while  they  live- ^  and  after  that  they 
go  to  the  dead. 


SERMON  V. 

THE  PRODIGAL  SON.— Sermon  I. 


— ■^ft     I— ■ 


Luke  xv.   11 — 17. 


And  he  said,  A  certain  man  had  two  sons. 

And  the  younger  of  them  said  to  his  father,  "  Father,  give  me 
the  portion  of  goods,  that  falleth  to  me.''''  And  he  divided  unto 
them  his  living. 

And  not  many  days  after,  the  younger  son  gathered  all  togeth- 
er, and  took  his  journey  into  afar  country ;  and  there  wasted  his 
substance  with  riotous  living. 

And,  ivhen  he  had  spent  all,  there  arose  a  mighty  famine  in 
that  land  ^  and  he  began  to  be  in  want. 

And  he  went,  and  joined  himself  to  a  citizen  of  that  country  ; 
and  he  sent  him  into  his  fields  to  feed  swine. 

And  he  would  fain  have  filled  his  belly  with  the  husks,  that 
the  swine  did  eat ;  and  no  man  gave  unto  him. 

And,  when  he  came  to  himself,  he  said,  "  How  many  hired  ser- 
vants of  my  father''s  have  bread  enough,  and  to  spare ;  and  I 
perish  with  hunger  /" 

This  parable  is  naturally  capable  of  a  twofold  construction. 
The  first,  and  probably  that  which  it  was  intended  especially  to 
have,  is,  that  it  is  an  exhibition  of  the  comparative  state  of  the 
Jews  and  the  Gentiles,  and  of  the  dispensations  of  God  to  both. 
The  second  supposes  it  to  be  an  account  of  persons,  externally 
and  regularly  obedient  to  the  law  of  God,  and  therefore  right- 
eous in  their  own  eyes,  and  of  those,  who  from  a  state  of  shame, 
sin,  and  ruin,  return  with  a  godly  sorrow  for  their  guilt,  to  a 
state  of  obedience  and  reconciliation  to  God.  As  this  was  spee- 
dily to  be  illustrated  in  the  conversion  of  the  Gentiles  ;  as  their 


8ER.  v.]  THE  PRODIGAL  SON.  69 

sinful  condition  was  essentially  the  same  with  that  of  every  sin- 
ner ^  and  their  conversion,  that  of  every  convert ;  the  latter  of 
these  constructions  becomes  entirely  parallel  with  the  former ; 
and  may  with  strict  propriety  be  assumed  as  true.  I  shall,  there- 
fore, adopt  it  on  the  present  occasion. 

This  parable  is,  upon  the  whole,  the  best  prosaic  composition 
in  the  Scriptures.  The  subject  is  interesting  beyond  expression. 
The  narrative  is  told  with  the  simplicity  of  a  child,  and  with  a 
skill  which  answers  to  the  highest  wish  of  criticism.  The  facts 
are  selected  with  extreme  felicity,  and  arranged  in  the  happiest 
order.  The  language  is  so  concise,  that  there  is  not  a  word  to 
spare ;  and  so  perspicuous,  that  not  another  word  is  necessary. 
No  story,  of  the  same  length,  is  equally  important  to  man,  or 
equally  pathetic.  It  ends  also  precisely  where  it  ought,  with  a 
complete  annunciation  of  the  catastrophe,  and  at  the  interesting 
moment  when  the  feelings  are  raised  to  the  highest  pitch.  It 
contains  almost  as  many  truths,  as  words  ;  and  all  these  are 
fraught  with  instruction,  of  the  most  momentous  nature  :  while 
the  moral,  if  I  may  call  it  such,  deeply  interests  the  inhabitants 
of  heaven,  and  awakens  hope  and  transport  in  the  whole  family 
of  Adam. 

In  explaining  a  parable  we  are  ever  to  remember  the  danger, 
into  which  some  critics  have  fallen,  of  endeavoring  to  adapt 
every  fact  and  word  to  the  principal  meaning  of  the  allegory. 
The  nature  of  allegorical  writing  demands  of  course,  that  some 
things  should  be  said,  in  order  to  make  the  composition  complete; 
in  order  to  give  meaning  and  force,  grace  and  beauty,  to  the 
story  ;  so  that  it  may  be  read  with  pleasure,  and  may  make  hap- 
py impressions.  In  these  it  is  folly  to  hunt  for  any  further  mean- 
ing. The  greatest  justice  will  ever  be  done  to  compositions  of 
this  nature,  when  those  instructions,  and  those  only,  are  found 
in  them,  which  they  obviously  contain,  or  can  clearly  be  shewn 
to  contain.  Such  will  be  the  plan  of  explanation,  intentionally 
pursued  in  the  following  discourse. 

In  this  parable,  the  Father  represents  God  ;  the  elder  son,  the 
Jews  ;  and  the  younger,  the  Gentiles.    Or  the  former  may  denote 

Vol.  II.  10 


70  THE  PRODIGAL  SON.  [SER.  V. 

a  moral,  self  righteous  man  ;  and  the  latter,  a  very  sinful  one,  be- 
coming a  penitent.  Of  the  many  evangelical  doctrines,  which, 
understood  in  the  last  sense,  it  conveys  tons,  I  select  the  following. 

1st.  Sinners  reg-ard  God  no  farther^  than  to  gain  from  him 
whatever  they  can. 

This  truth  is  forcibly  exhibited  in  the  parable.  And  the  youn- 
ger son  said  unto  his  Father^  "  Father,  give  me  the  portion  of 
goods,  that  falleth  to  me."  "  And  he  divided  unto  them  his  living. 
And  not  many  days  after  theyounger  son  gathered  all  together,  and 
took  his  journey  into  a  far  country."  This  youth  was  obviously 
disposed  to  be  no  farther  connected  with  his  parent,  than  was 
necessary,  in  order  to  obtain  from  him  the  property  which  his 
bounty  might  induce  him  to  bestow.  It  was  evidently  his  design, 
when  he  asked  for  this  portion,  to  leave  his  benevolent  parent 
as  soon  as  he  conveniently  could.  Within  a  few  days  he  execu- 
ted this  design  ;  and  not  only  left  him,  but  in  his  intentions  left 
him  finally ;  for  he  went  into  a  far  country,  from  which  he  evi- 
dently intended  never  to  return.  It  was  for  this  reason,  that  he 
gathered  all  together  ;  and  that  he  asked  for  his  whole  portion. 
This  voluntary  estrangement,  also,  was  I  think  the  peculiar  sub- 
ject of  his  sorrow  and  contrition,  luhen  he  came  to  himself:  the 
crime,  which  he  most  deeply  lamented,  and  which  in  his  view 
rendered  him  peculiarly  unworthy  to  be  regarded  as  a  son. 

No  words  could  more  successfully  exhibit  this  part  of  a  sinful 
character.  All  sinners  are  willing  to  be  connected  with  their 
Maker,  so  long  and  so  far,  as  they  think  they  can  gain  any  thing 
from  his  hands.  Men,  of  this  description,  have  a  loose  and  in- 
definite apprehension,  that  their  blessings  are  derived  from  God  ; 
without  knowing,  perhaps,  or  even  thinking,  how  much  they  are 
indebted  to  Him,  how  much  to  what  they  call  Nature,  and  how 
much  to  themselves.  Generally,  and  in  "this  country  perhaps  al- 
ways, they  believe  that  they  derive  from  him  their  existence,  and, 
in  a  remote  and  subordinate  sense,  their  enjoyments.  As  he 
made  them  ;  they  believe,  that  he  is  bound  to  provide  for  them  ; 
and  that  with  no  very  sparing  or  illiberal  hand.  Wliat  he  gives, 
they  gather  ^  and,  during  the  period  of  enjoyment,  think  of  him 
no  more. 


SER.  v.]  THE  PRODIGAL  SON.  71 

This  spirit  is  expressed  with  the  utmost  precision  and  beauty, 
in  the  address  of  the  prodigal  to  his  parent :  "  Father  give  me 
the  portion  of  goods,  that  faileth  to  me  ;"  not  such  a  portion,  as 
the  bounty  of  his  Father  might  induce  him  kindly  to  bestow  ; 
but  that,  wliichfdl  to  him  in  the  course  of  things  ;  to  wliich  he 
had  a  right ;  and  which,  therefore,  he  now  claimed  at  his  hands. 

In  exact  accordance  with  the  disposition  here  manifested,  sin- 
ners feel  no  gratitude  to  God  for  the  blessings  which  they  receive; 
and  never  regard  them  as  gifts  of  his  bounty,  but  as  enjoyments 
to  which  they  have  a  claim,  and  on  which,  therefore,  they  riot 
without  even  an  acknowledgment.  That  they  deserve  nothing 
at  his  hands,  and  that  he  still  continues  to  give  them  innumera- 
ble blessings,  are  considerations,  which,  although  apparently 
fitted  to  overcome  any  obstinacy,  and  break  down  any  self-de- 
pendence, awaken  in  them  neither  gratitude  nor  humility,  nei- 
ther faith  nor  repentance. 

The  prodigal  was  impatient  of  living  with  his  Father.  He 
loved  not  his  character,  nor  his  mode  of  life  ;  the  order  of  his 
house,  nor  the  employments  of  his  family.  All  these  things  were 
of  such  a  nature,  as  to  counteract  his  ruling  propensities,  and 
violate  his  favourite  views,  wishes,  and  hopes.  In  the  same  man- 
ner the  character  and  ways  of  God,  as  they  are  holy,  pure,  and 
perfect,  are  only  painful  to  a  sinful  heart.  Hence  they  reject  both 
him  and  them,  as  much  as  possible,  from  their  thoughts.  The 
moral  distance,  to  which  they  remove  from  him  is  exactly  imag- 
ed by  the  prodigal's  journey  into  a  far  country.  They  betake 
themselves  to  a  world  of  sin  and  sinners  ;  a  region,  where  all  the 
pursuits  are  opposed  to  God,  and  all  the  inhabitants  are  strangers. 
Here  religion,  God  its  object,  and  Heaven  its  end,  are  disregard- 
ed and  forgotten ;  and  other  objects,  of  a  nature  wholly  opposite, 
engross  the  heart  and  the  life.  This  region  is  not  our  Father's 
house.  Heaven  is  the  soul's  home.  Every  where  else  it  is  a  stran- 
ger, and  finds  no  abiding  place  ;  a  wanderer,  lost,  bewildered, 
and  forgotten. 

2dly.  Sinners  waste  their  blessings,  and  reduce  themselves  to 
absolute  want. 


72  THE  PRODIGAL  SON.  [SER.  V, 

In  tlie  far  country  to  which  the  prodigal  took  his  journey,  he 
wasted  his  substance  ivith  riotous  living ;  in  the  Greek,  living 
projligately^  he  entirely  scattered  his  substance.  To  show  his 
absolute  poverty,  Christ  adds,  "  and  when  he  had  spent  all.'" 
The  portion,  distributed  to  him,  was  amply  sufficient,  had  he  ex- 
ercised common  prudence,  to  have  carried  him  comfortably  through 
life.     But  nothing  will  supply  the  demands  of  prodigality. 

The  blessings  communicated  to  sinners,  were  given  for  noble 
ends  ;  and  are  means  abundantly  sufficient  for  their  accomplish- 
ment. This  is  true  of  all  their  blessings,  and  peculiarly  true  of 
their  powers  of  soul  and  body.  With  these  it  was  intended,  that 
they  should  know,  love,  serve,  and  enjoy,  God  ;  promote  the  well- 
being  of  their  fellow  men  ;  and  secure  to  themselves  comfort 
here,  and  immortal  life  hereafter.  But  to  all  these  every  sinner 
is  steadily  opposed,  and  vigorously  hostile.  His  views,  his  wish- 
es, his  designs,  terminate  in  himself;  and  of  course  are  not  only 
useless  to  every  really  valuable  purpose,  but  directly  frustrate  the 
benevolent  designs  of  God  towards  him.  "  Israel,"  says  the 
prophet  Hosea  with  exact  precision,  "  is  an  empty  vine.  He 
bringelh  forth  fruit  unto  himself"  Selfishness  is  abundantly 
fruitful,  in  its  own  view  ;  and  the  soul  is  perpetually  looking  for 
the  enjoyment,  which  its  produce  is  constantly  expected  to  yield. 
But  its  fruits  are  those,  which  are  fabulously  said  to  grow  on  the 
borders  of  the  Red  Sea ;  beautiful  apples  without,  but  within 
nothing  but  bitter  ashes. 

Riotous  livings  in  the  moral,  as  well  the  natural,  sense,  brings 
on  absolute  poverty.  All  the  pursuits  of  avarice,  ambition,  and 
voluptuousness,  are  as  injurious  to  the  soul,  as  prodigality  and 
luxury  to  the  body  ;  and  leave  it,  in  the  end,  poor  indeed.  How 
little  do  the  miserable  wretches,  who  give  up  life,  conscience,  and 
hope,  to  these  objects,  think  of  the  views  which  God  forms  of 
their  conduct,  or  what  will  be  its  end. 

3dly.  Ajflictions  are  very  often  the  first  means  of  bringing 
sinners  to  a  sense  of  their  condition. 

"  And  when  he  had  spent  all,  there  arose  a  mighty  famine  in 
that  land  ;  and  he  began  to  be  in  want."     So  long  as  there  was 


SER.  v.]  THE  PRODIGAL  SON.  73 

food  in  the  country,  the  prodigal  felt,  in  some  measure,  safe. 
When  the  famine  commenced,  he  began  then  to  be  destitute, 
and  to  feel  that  he  was  destitute  :  and  this  consciousness  of  suf- 
fering, derived  from  the  famine  spread  around  him,  was  the  first 
rational  apprehension,  which  he  entertained  of  himself  or  his 
condition,  and  the  first  step  towards  his  relief. 

Could  sinners  open  their  eyes  ;  they  would  distinctly  perceive, 
that  this  world  is  destitute  of  the  good  which  they  so  ardently 
covet,  and  so  eagerly  pursue  ;  that  a  famine  absolutely  prevails 
in  it  of  such  enjoyments  as  are  necessary  to  sustain  the  soul.  Nay, 
if  they  would  open  their  ears,  and  believe  what  they  hear,  they 
would  want  no  farther  means  of  conviction.  History  is  almost 
only  a  tale  of  sins  and  sorrows.  The  stream  of  tears  has  flow- 
ed down  from  the  apostacy  to  the  present  hour.  Sighs  have 
been  breathed  in  every  wind  :  and  there  is  hardly  a  mountain,  or 
a  hill,  which  has  not  echoed  to  the  groans  of  human  anguish. 
Were  a  man,  says  Bishop  Berkeley^  to  escape  from  this  world, 
and  to  gain  admission  into  a  world,  unpolluted  with  sin  ;  he 
would  probably  return  with  much  the  same  reluctance,  as  a  pris- 
oner liberated  from  his  chains,  would  go  back  to  a  dungeon. 

Insensible  as  sinners  usually  are  to  the  whole  miport  of  these 
truths,  and  confidently  as  they  expect  to  find,  somewhere,  the 
happiness  for  which  their  souls  so  ardently  long ;  there  are  sea- 
sons, at  which  many  of  them  awake  to  their  real  condition. 
Some  severe  suffering  may  lay  hold  even  on  a  hard  heart ;  and  force 
the  mind  to  reahze  its  condition.  Before,  it  said  to  itself,  ''  I  am 
rich,  and  increased  in  goods,  and  have  need  of  nothing."  Now 
it  perceives  that  it  is  "  wretched,  and  miserable,  and  poor,  and 
blind,  and  naked." 

4thly.  When  sinners  first  acquire  such  a  sense  of  their  condi- 
tion ;  they  betake  themselves  to  false  measures  for  relief 

The  prodigal,  in  his  distress,  went^  and  joined  himself  to  a  citi- 
zen of  that  country.  And  he  sent  him  into  his  fields  to  feed 
swine.  This  citizen  himself  lived  in  that  land  of  famine  ;  and 
therefore  had,  in  all  probability,  little  or  nothing  to  give  to  the 
suffering  wretch,  had  he  been  ever  so  well  disposed.     We  know, 


74  THE  PRODIGAL  SON.  [SER.  V. 

that  he  actually  gave  him  nothing.  At  the  same  time  he  sent 
Mm  into  Ms  fields  to  feed  swine :  an  employment  every  where  low 
and  debasing;  but  in  the  eye  of  a  Jew,  such  as  those  were  to 
whom  this  parable  was  addressed,  supremely  debasing,  and  held 
in  religious  abhorrence.  Nothing  could  less  correspond  with 
the  real  interest  of  this  unhappy  man.  He  needed  food,  clothes, 
comfort,  encouragement,  hope,  better  friends,  and  more  desira- 
ble employments.  Thus  the  measures,  to  which  he  betook  him- 
self, were  all  false,  fruitless,  and  fitted  to  increase,  not  to  lessen, 
both  the  calamities  whicii  he  suffered,  and  the  distresses  which 
futurity  presented  to  him  in  a  long  and  diamal  train. 

He  ought  immediately  to  have  returned  to  his  Father's  house. 
There,  if  any  where,  he  might  reasonably  have  expected  to  find 
friends.  Parents  love  their  children  long  after  they  have  ceased 
either  to  be  dutiful,  or  hopeful.  There,  also,  he  ha3  reason  to 
believe,  means  might  be  found  both  of  support  and  comfort. 
There,  finally,  his  profligacy  might  have  been  terminated  ;  and 
he,  by  the  happy  efficacy  of  repentance  and  reformation,  have 
been  restored  to  an  approving  conscience  and  a  virtuous  life. 

When  sinners  begin  to  feel,  that  they  are  alienated  from  God, 
and  that  God  is  alienated  from  them,  their  first  eflforts  for  their 
deliverance  from  this  miserable  situation  are  attempts  to  quiet 
their  consciences,  either  by  mixing  with  companions,  whose 
conversation  and  pursuits  may  enable  them  to  forget  their  alarms, 
turn  their  eyes  from  their  character,  and  follow  quietly  their  for- 
mer courses  ;  or  to  persuade  themselves  that  the  doctrines  and 
denunciations  of  the  Scriptures  are  to  be  understood  with  many 
qualifications  and  softenings,  and  that  their  case,  is  therefore  not 
so  bad,  as  they  had  been  accustomed  to  suppose  it.  If  neither 
of  these  schemes  will  succeed,  they  attempt  to  make  their  condi- 
tion better  by  leaving  off  one  sin,  and  performing  one  duty  and 
another  ;  particularly  those,  which  are  of  an  external  nature.  In 
all  this  there  is  not  a  single  attempt  to  amend  the  heart;  where 
the  whole  evil  lies.  In  the  first  and  second  of  these  methods, 
their  lives  will  become  more,  in  the  third  commonly  less,  gross 
than  before.     But  even  in  this  case  there  is  no  radical  change  for 


SER.  v.]  THE  PRODIGAL  SON.  75 

the  better.  If  they  attach  themselves  to  such  as  they  are  ;  they 
wiJl  only  conduct  them  to  base  employments,  to  greater  guilt, 
and  to  more  absolute  degradation. 

In  the  mean  time,  not  a  step  is  taken  towards  the  sinner's 
home.  The  fewer  sins  he  commits,  the  less  he  may  suffer  in  the 
future  world  ;  still,  while  he  loves  sin,  he  will  steadily  go  onward 
towards  perdition.  All  his  efforts  of  this  nature  will  therefore 
avail  him  nothing.  His  first  duty  is  to  repent  of  his  sins,  and 
turn  to  God.  Every  measure,  short  of  this,  is  a  false  measure. 
His  companions  can  never  purify  his  mind  from  sin  ;  and  neither 
he,  nor  they  can  save  him  from  destruction. 

5thly.   This  situation  of  a  sinner  is  eminently  unhappy. 

The  prodigal  had  spent  his  estate ;  was  in  a  land  of  famine  ; 
had  become  a  servant  to  a  neighboring  citizen  ;  was  sent  into 
his  fields,  to  feed  swine  ;  and  was  on  the  point  of  starving  for 
want  of  food.  So  low  was  he  reduced,  that  "  he  would  fain 
have  filled  his  belly  with  the  husks,  which  the  swine  did  eat."  So 
low  was  he  reduced,  that,  in  the  language  of  the  original,  he  was 
earnestly  desirous  to  feed  with  the  swine,  upon  the  pods  of  le- 
guminous plants  ;  such  as  beans  and  peas ;  or  the  pods  of  the 
Carob  tree,  which  not  a  little  resemble  them.  What  must  have 
been  the  situation  of  him,  to  whom  these  things  were  objects  of 
earnest  desire. 

But  this  was  not  all.  We  are  further  informed  that  no  man 
gave  unto  him.  In  this  miserable  situation  he  was  absolutely  des- 
titute of  friends,  hopeless  of  relief,  and  a  stranger  even  to  pity. 

Neither  was  this  all.  To  these  ingredients  of  wretchedness 
was  added  a  species  of  distraction.  For  the  parable  subjoins, 
"  when  he  came  to  himself"  Before  this,  therefore,  he  was  not 
in  his  right  mind.  It  is  not,  indeed,  to  be  supposed,  that  he  was 
in  the  proper  sense  delirious ;  but  that  by  means  of  his  profliga- 
cy and  his  distresses,  his  thoughts  had  become  so  disordered,  as 
to  be  incapable  of  controlling  his  conduct  with  advantage,  or 
directing  him  to  safety  and  happiness. 

Strong  as  this  picture  is  ;  it  is  an  exactly  just  representation 
of  the  sinner's  miserable  state,  in  the  circumstances  which  are 


7G  THE  PRODIGAL  SON.  [SfeR.  V. 

specified.  In  this  state,  his  soul,  instead  of  betaking  itself  for 
sustenance  to  the  bread  of  hfe,  labours  to  satisfy  itself  upon 
husks.  Nay,  it  is  said,  in  the  Scriptures,  "  to  feed  upon  wind, 
and  to  follow  the  East  wind  ;"  and  even  to  eat  only  in  imagina- 
tion; "  as  when  an  hungry  man  dreameth,  and  behold,  he  eateth; 
but  he  awaketh,  and  his  soul  is  empty."  All  the  objects,  to 
which  the  sinner  resorts,  are  mere  husks  ;  mere  wind  ;  visionary 
food  ;  such  as  can  never  satisfy  his  mental  hunger,  the  longing 
of  his  soul  for  good. 

At  the  same  time,  no  one  gives  to  him.  There  is  but  one,  who 
can  give  ;  and  to  him  he  does  not  apply.  Other  beings,  however 
disposed,  could  not  give  him  if  they  would  ;  and  those,  to  whom 
he  actually  applies,  would  not  if  they  could. 

At  the  same  time  also,  he  is  beside  himself.  Madness  is  justly 
defined  to  be  that  state  of  mind,  in  which,  although  it  is  able  to 
reason,  the  principles  with  which  it  sets  out,  and  of  course  the 
conclusions  with  which  it  ends,  are  false  and  deceiving.  Hence 
it  pursues  little  good,  and  neglects  that  which  is  great ;  is  intent 
on  trifles,  and  forgets  objects  of  the  highest  importance.  Such 
is  the  true  character  of  sinners.  Their  real  interests  they  neg- 
lect ;  and  look  for  happiness  to  things  of  no  value.  The  favour 
of  God,  the  forgiveness  of  their  sins,  and  the  immortal  interests 
of  their  souls,  are  all  forgotten  by  them  :  while  yet  they  struggle 
hard  to  find  a  substitute  for  these  inestimable  blessings  in  the 
toys  of  ambition,  the  dross  of  avarice  and  the  riot  of  sensuality. 
To  lose  these  blessings  for  any  reason  whatever  is  to  be  delirious. 
It  is  madness  to  love  sin  at  all,  to  be  an  enemy  of  God,  or  to 
hazard  the  loss  of  the  soul,  for  a  day,  an  hour,  or  a  moment ;  to 
trust  to  a  future  reformation,  and  peculiarly  to  a  death-bed  re- 
pentance :  madness,  compared  with  which,  the  extravagances 
of  Bedlam  are  the  effusions  of  sober  reason. 

6thly.  The  repentance  of  the  Gospel  is  the  resumption  of  a 
right  mind. 

"  When  he  came  to  himself,"  says  our  Saviour.  "  God,"  says 
St.  Paul,  "  has  given  us  the  spirit  of  a  sound  mind."  2.  Tim.  i.  7, 


SER.  v.]  THE  PRODIGAL  SON.  77 

No  person,  who  reads  this  parable,  will  hesitate  a  moment  to 
admit,  that  the  prodigal  now  first  resumed  his  reason ;  or  that, 
before,  he  thought  and  acted  like  a  madman.  Truth  passes  the 
same  sentence  concerning  a  sinner,  in  both  situations. 

When  a  sinner  first  begins  to  entertain  thoughts,  which  are 
sincerely  penitent ;  he  first  begins  to  see  moral  subjects  as  they 
really  are.  Accordingly,  men  in  a  state  of  impenitence  are, 
throughout  the  Scriptures,  styled  blind;  and  the  manner,  in  which 
they  regard  spiritual  subjects,  is  styled  hlindness.  Thus  in  Isaiah 
xlii.  16.  God  says  "  I  will  bring  the  blind  by  a  way,  which  they 
knew  not ;  I  will  lead  them  in  paths  that  they  have  not  known." 
And  again  in  verse  18.  "Hear,  ye  deaf ;  and  look,  ye  blind, 
that  ye  may  see."  Of  wicked  ministers  he  says,  chapter,  Ivi. 
10.  "  His  watchmen  are  blind  ;  they  are  all  ignorant."  In  the 
same  manner,  Christ  addresses  the  Pharisees,  Matthew  xxiii. 
"  Woe  unto  you  ye  blind  guides ;"  "  Ye  fools,  and  blind  ;"  and, 
"  Thou  blind  Pharisee." 

Of  our  Saviour  it  is  said,  Mark  iii.  5.  that  he  looked  around  upon 
the  sinful  Jews,  who  opposed  his  design  of  healing  the  man  with 
a  withered  hand,  being  grieved  for  the  blindness  of  their  hearts. 
"  He  that  hateth  his  brother,"  says  St.  John,  "  is  in  darkness, 
and  walketh  in  darkness ;  and  knoweth  not  whither  he  goeth, 
because  that  darkness  hath  blinded  his  eyes."  1.  John  ii.  11. 
"  If  our  Gospel  be  hid,"  says  St.  Paul,  "  it  is  hid  to  them,  that 
are  lost :  In  whom  the  God  of  this  world  hath  blinded  the  minds 
of  them  that  believe  not,  lest  the  light  of  the  glorious  Gospel  of 
Christ,  who  is  the  image  of  God,  should  shine  unto  them." 
2.  Cor.  iv.  3.  4. 

When  a  sinner  begins  to  exercise  a  spirit  of  repentance;  he 
begins  first  to  see  moral  objects,  as  they  are ;  and  to  feel  towards 
them  emotions  accordant  with  their  real  nature.  Sin  itself,  in 
which  before  he  so  much  delighted,  he  perceives,  for  the  first 
time,  to  be  an  evil  and  hitter  thing.  His  own  moral  character, 
which  before  he  thought  in  many  respects  good,  and  in  none  very 
bad,  he  now  discerns  to  be  deformed  and  loathsome.  God  he 
he  now  readily  pronounces  to  be  just ;  his  law,  holy,  righteou*. 

Vol.  n.  11 


78  THE  PRODIGAL  SON.  [SER.  V. 

and  reasonable ;  and  his  own  violations  of  it,  deserving  of  the 
divine  anger.  Christ,  for  the  first  time,  he  sees  to  be  divinely 
excellent  and  lovely  ;  and  an  interest  in  his  atonement  to  be 
infinitely  desirable.  His  heart  he  willingly  acknowledges  to  be 
"  deceitful  above  all  things  and  desperately  wicked  ;  and  all  his 
righteousnesses  as  filthy  rags." 

This  world  he  begins  to  consider  merely  as  a  stage  of  proba- 
tion ;  its  blessings  as  means  of  his  support  during  his  pilgrimage, 
and  of  his  beneficence  to  his  fellow  men  ;  the  'pleasures  of  sin  as 
momentary,  deceitful,  and  ruinous;  and  godliness  as  jJrof  fable 
to  all  things,  having  promise  of  the  life  which  now  is,  and  of  that 
which  is  to  come. 

Among  the  things,  which  the  sinner  realizes,  when  he  first 
comes  to  himself,  are  the  following. 

First,  His  own  miserable  condition. 

"  I,"  said  the  prodigal,  "  perish  with  hunger."  When  the 
sinner  looks  round  upon  his  circumstances  and  into  his  soul,  he 
sees  that  he  is  ivretched,  and  miserable,  and  poor,  and  blind,  and 
naked.  In  the  moral  sense,  he  has  nothing.  He  is  destitute 
alike  of  happiness  and  safety,  of  righteousness  and  hope.  These 
are  not  the  conclusions  of  despondency  ;  the  views  of  a  distur- 
bed mind  ;  the  suggestions  of  terror.  They  are  the  sober  con- 
clusions of  rational  thought ;  and  are  founded  on  the  most  solid 
evidence.  Of  this  the  proof  is  complete  :  for  every  sanctified 
man  entertains  the  same  views  concerning  his  former  sinful  con- 
dition, to  his  dying  day  :  and  they  continually  become  clearer 
and  more  satisfactory,  while  he  lives.  They  are,  therefore,  the 
decisions  of  the  soundest  reflection,  and  the  most  rational  ap- 
prehensions concerning  ourselves.  There  is  not  a  child  of  God 
in  the  world,  who  does  not  with  the  strongest  feelings  often,  very 
often,  say  with  David,  "  If  thou  Lord  shouldest  mark  iniquity, 
O  Lord,  who  shall  stand  ?" 

There  is  nothing  in  ourselves,  which  God  can  accept ;  noth- 
ing, which  can  contribute  towards  the  expiation  of  our  guilt ; 
nothing,  which  can  at  all  become  the  ground  of  our  justification. 
To  this  state  of  man  all  the  invitations  of  the  Gospel  are  con- 


SER.  v.]  THE  PRODIGAL  SON.  79 

formed.  "  Ho  every  one  that  thirsteth ;"  saith  God  by  the  proph- 
et Isaiah,  "  come  ye  to  the  waters  ;  and  he  that  hath  no  money  ; 
Come  ye,  buy  and  eat ;  yea  come,  buy  wine  and  milk,  without 
money,  and  without  price."  "  Come  unto  me,"  saith  our  Sa- 
viour, "  all  ye  that  labour,  and  are  heavy  laden,  and  I  will  give 
you  rest."  Whosoever  will,  let  him  come,  and  take  the  water 
of  life  freely."  All  these  invitations,  and  many  others  like  them, 
are  obviously  directed  to  those,  who  have  nothing  of  their  own, 
and  are  literally  in  want  of  all  things.  The  proper,  the  instinc- 
tive, language  of  every  penitent  is,  "  God  be  merciful  to  me  a 
sinner." 

As  these  views  are  just ;  it  is  evident  that  he,  who  has  them 
not,  has  no  just  apprehensions  of  his  condition,  and  has  not  yet 
begun  to  regard  himself,  as  he  is  regarded  by  his  Maker.  Who- 
ever, therefore,  supposes  himself  to  be  a  penitent,  and  has  yet 
not  discerned  that  this  is  his  real  situation,  is  only  deceiving  him- 
self, and  building  upon  the  sand.  These  views  enter  into  th§ 
nature  and  essence  of  repentance  ;  and,  where  they  do  not  ex- 
ist, repentance  has  not  begun  to  exist.  But  without  repentance 
there  can  be  no  forgiveness,  safety  nor  hope. 

On  the  other  hand,  he,  who  entertains  such  apprehensions  con- 
cerning himself,  has  solid  reasons  to  believe,  that  some  good 
thing  is  found  in  him  toward  the  Lord  God  of  Israel.  This 
state  of  mind,  which  I  have  described,  is  in  itself  good  ;  and  the 
foundation  of  more  extensive  good.  It  is  to  be  understood,  how- 
ever, that  mere  speculative  views  are  not  here  intended.  It  is 
essential,  that  all  these  things  be  deeply  and  ingenuously  felt  in 
the  heart,  and  cheerfully  acknowledged  ;  and  that  they  be  so 
felt,  as  to  become  a  living  principle  of  future  action. 

Secondly,  Another  things  realized  by  the  sinner  in  this  state, 
is,  that  in  the  house  of  his  heavenly  Father  there  is  an  abundance 
of  good. 

"  How  many  hired  servants  in  my  father's  house,"  said  the 
prodigal,  "  have  bread  enough,  and  to  spare  !"  There  is  enough 
and  more  than  enough,  for  all  who  dwell  in  that  happy  mansion. 
The  plenty,  which  abounded  here,  was  exactly  fitted  to  supply 


80  THE  PRODIGAL  SON.  [SER.  V. 

the  necessities  of  this  famishing  wretch.  He  was  perishing  with 
hunger.  In  his  father's  house  there  was  bread ;  not  husks  ;  but 
the  food  which  would  satisfy  hunger,  and  preserve  hfe. 

In  the  house  of  our  Heavenly  Father  good  abounds,  which  is 
exactly  fitted  to  supply  the  wants  of  perishing  sinners.  The 
soul  needs  sustenance  equally  with  the  body  ;  and  for  the  want 
of  it  will  be  famished.  The  food,  on  which  alone  it  can  be  sus- 
tained, is  the  living  bread,  ichich  came  down  from  heaven,,  and  the 
water,  which  is  given  by  Christ.  "  He,  who  drinketh  of  the  wa- 
ter, which  Christ  gives,  shall  never  thirst ;  he,  who  eateth  of 
this  bread,  shall  live  forever."  In  this  divine  mansion  the  bread 
of  life  is  found.  There  flows  the  pure  river  of  the  water  of  life. 
On  its  banks  ascends  "  the  tree  of  life  ;  which  bears  twelve  man- 
ner of  fruits,  and  yields  its  fruits  every  month."  Those,  who  are 
admitted  into  this  happy  place,  "  hunger  no  more,  neither  thirst 
any  more,  neither  shall  the  sun  light  on  them,  nor  any  heat.  But 
the  Lamb  shall  feed  them,  and  lead  them  unto  living  fountains  of 
waters :  and  God  shall  wipe  away  all  tears  from  their  eyes." 

The  enjoyments,  yielded  by  this  delightful  place,  are  the  prop- 
er food  of  a  rational,  immortal  mind ;  and  entirely  suited  to  the 
demands  of  its  original,  exalted  nature.  They  are  pure,  sub- 
lime, eternal,  and  ever  increasing  ;  fullness  of  joy,  and  pleasures 
forever  more. 

For  this  good,  we  are  here  taught,  the  sinner  has  in  this  situa- 
tion begun  to  entertain  a  relish.  The  prodigal  no  longer  '•  would 
fain  fill  his  belly  with  the  husks,  which  the  swine  did  eat."  His 
palate  began  to  relish  the  bread  of  his  father's  house  ;  and  turn- 
ed a  longing  eye  toward  the  solid  sustenance,  which  was  there 
so  amply  furnished.  The  sinner,  in  the  case  supposed,  begins  to 
hunger  and  thirst  after  7'ighteousness. 

Thirdly,  The  sijiner  in  this  situation  begins,  also,  to  cherish  a 
realizing  hope  that  this  good  may  be  his. 

Such  a  hope  the  prodigal  plainly  cherished.  The  remem- 
brance, that  even  the  hired  servants  in  his  father's  house  had 
bread  enough  and  to  spare,  was  accompanied  with  a  prevailing 
hope,  that  upon  his  return  the  same  blessing  would  be  imparted 


SER.  v.]  THE  PRODIGAL  SON.  81 

to  him.  Accordingly,  he  determines  immediately  to  arise,  and 
go  to  his  father.  Without  such  a  hope  he  would  have  continued 
where  he  was  ;  and  perished  on  the  spot. 

The  promises  of  the  Gospel  contain  and  proffer  to  returning 
sinners,  all  the  blessings  which  they  need.  In  this  situation  the 
sinner  begins  to  make  the  case  his  own  ;  and  to  hope,  and  in 
some  degree  to  believe,  that  these  promises  are  addressed  to  him. 
His  hopes  are  well  founded  and  Evangelical.  The  promises  of 
the  Gospel  are  directed  to  just  such  persons  as  he  is.  They 
were  intended  to  encourage,  allure,  and  support,  sinners  in  this 
very  situation  ;  to  keep  them  from  despair  ;  and  to  stregthen  and 
uphold  them  in  the  mighty  concern  of  turning  to  God.  Every 
such  sinner  will  find  every  such  promise  fulfilled  to  himself.  ' 

Thus  have  I  followed  the  progress  of  a  sinner  through  the  sev- 
eral stages  of  his  corruption  and  ruin,  to  the  commencement  of 
his  return  to  God  ;  exhibited,  in  so  interesting  a  manner,  in  this 
most  instructive  and  beautiful  parable.  I  will  now  conclude  the 
discourse  with  a  single  Remark.  It  is  this.  How  happily  adap- 
ted is  the  salvation  of  the  Gospel  to  the  circumstances  of  sinners. 
Had  this  salvation  not  been  ofiered  freely,  it  would  have  been 
offered  in  vain.  We  owe  ten  thousand  talents,  and  have  nothing 
to  pay.  Unless  therefore,  the  debt  be  forgiven  ;  we  must  be 
sent  to  the  prison  of  punishment.  But  this  forgiveness  is  in  its 
nature  free  and  sovereign. 

In  plainer  language,  we  are  sinners,  have  broken  the  law  of 
God,  and  are  rebels  against  his  government.  But  the  Law,  of 
which  not  a  single ^*o«  or  tittle  can  possibly /aiZ,  has  said,  "The 
soul,  that  sinneth,  shall  die  ;"  and  "  Cursed  is  every  one,  who 
continueth  not  in  all  things,  written  in  the  book  of  the  law,  to  do 
them."  Every  sinner,  therefore,  is  absolutely  condemned  by  this 
most  holy  law ;  and,  if  left  to  himself,  must  perish. 

In  this  miserable  situation,  Christ  with  wonderful  love,  with  di- 
vine compassion,  has  interposed  on  behalf  of  our  race  ;  made  an 
end  of  sin ;  "  finished  transgression  ;  made  reconciliation  for 
iniquity  ;  and  brought  in  everlasting  righteousness."  The  ex- 
piation, which  he  has  accomplished,  may  become  ours  by  faith 


82  THE  PRODIGAL  SON.  [SER.  V. 

in  him,  and  repentance  towards  God.  Thus  we  are  introduced 
to  the  glorious  hope  of  immortal  life  ;  and  are  called  upon  by  a 
voice  from  heaven  to  return,  repent  and  hve.  Here  every  rea- 
son is  furnished  for  comfort  which  in  such  a  state  can  exist ;  eve- 
ry reason  to  bless  God  ;  every  inducement  to  seek  salvation. 

But  no  hope  is  here  presented  to  him,  who  is  quiet  in  his  sins, 
and  satisfied  with  his  own  righteousness.  He  is  the  prodigal  in 
the  text,  in  his  most  forlorn  situation.  He  may  be,  and  often  is, 
not  less  at  his  ease  ;  not  less  gay  ;  not  less  riotous  ;  not  less  un- 
conscious of  his  situation.  He  may  say,  as  others  before  him 
have  said,  "  I  am  rich,  and  increased  with  goods,  and  have  need 
of  nothing."  Still  he  is  not  the  less  wretched,  and  miserable, 
and  in  want  of  all  things.  All  within  him  is  beggary  ;  all  with- 
out is  famine.  His  only  food  is  husks,  and  his  only  destiny,  to 
perish  with  hunger;  and  that  while  "bread  enough,  and  to  spare," 
is  prepared  for  his  enjoyment,  and  ready  for  his  acceptance.  God 
is  waiting  to  be  gracious  to  him.  Christ  holds  out  to  him  the 
bread  of  life.  Heaven  opens  its  gates  for  his  reception.  Angels 
are  prepared  to  welcome  the  forsaken  wanderer  to  its  immortal 
blessings  ;  and  saints,  to  see  him  added  to  their  number,  increa- 
sing their  happiness,  and  mingling  in  their  praise  ;  while  he,  poor, 
starving,  famishing  wretch,  clings  to  his  misery  ;  hugs  his  ruin  ; 
and,  wiser  in  his  own  eyes  than  the  God  who  made  him,  glories 
in  the  wisdom  which  plans  and  executes  the  eternal  destruction 
of  his  soul. 


SERMON  VI. 

THE  PRODIGAL  SON.— Sermon  II. 

Luke  xv.  18 — 24. 

/  will  arise,  and  go  to  my  father  ;  and  will  say  unto  him,  ^'•Fa- 
ther I  have  sinned  against  Heaven,  and  before  thee. 

And  am  no  more  worthy  to  he  called  thy  son  :  make  me  as  one  of 
thy  hired  servants.'''' 

And  he  arose,  and  cam^e  to  his  father.  But,  when  he  was  yet 
a  great  way  off,  his  father  saw  him,  and  had  compassion,  and  ran, 
and  fell  on  his  neck,  and  kissed  him. 

And  the  son  said  unto  him,  "  Father,  I  have  sinned  against 
Heaven,  and  in  thy  sight,  and  am  no  more  worthy  to  he  called 
thy  son.'''' 

But  the  father  said  to  his  servants,  ^'- Bring  forth  the  hest  robe, 
and  put  it  on  him ;  and  put  a  ring  on  his  hand,  and  shoes  on 
his  feet ; 

And  bring  hither  the  fatted  calf,  and,  kill  it ;  and  let  us  eat, 
and  he  merry : 

For  this  my  son  was  dead,  and  is  alive  again ;  he  was  lost, 
and  is  found.''' 

.  In  the  preceding  discourse  from  the  former  part  of  this  para- 
ble, after  explaining  its  general  nature,  I  observed,  that  we  were 
taught  by  it  the  following  doctrines. 

1  St.  Sinners  regard  God  no  farther  than  to  gain  from  him 
whatever  they  can. 

2nd.  Sinners  waste  the  blessings,  which  they  receive  from  his 
hands,  and  reduce  themselves  to  absolute  want. 

3rd.  Afflictions  are  very  often  the  first  means  of  bringing  them 
to  a  sense  of  their  condition. 


84  THE  PRODIGAL  SON.  [SER.  Vt. 

4th.  When  they  Jirst  acquire  this  sense,  they  usually  betake 
themselves  to  false  measures  for  relief. 

5th.   This  situation  of  a  sinner  is  eminently  unhappy. 

6th.  The  repentance  of  the  Gospel  is  the  resumption  of  a 
right  nimd. 

Under  this  head  I  observed,  that  among  the  things  which  the 
sinner  reaHzes,  when  he  first  comes  to  himself,  are  the  following. 

First,  His  own  miserable  condition : 

Secondly,  That  in  the  house  of  his  Heavenly  Father  there  is 
an  abundance  of  good : 

Thirdly,  A  hope,  that  this  good  may  be  his. 

I  shall  now  proceed  in  the  consideration  of  the  progress  of  a 
sinner  towards  his  final  acceptance  with  God,  as  it  is  exhibited  in 
the  text.     With  this  design,  I  observe 

1st.   True  repentance  is  a  voluntary  exercise  of  the  mind.. 

"  I  will  arise,"  said  the  prodigal,  "  and  go  to  my  father." 

The  determination  expressed  in  this  language,  was  spontane- 
ous ;  and  flowed  from  the  present  state  of  his  heart  as  naturally, 
as  any  effect  from  any  cause  :  for  example,  as  his  former  deter- 
mination tg  leave  his  father,  flowed  from  the  disposition,  which  he 
possessed  at  that  time. 

There  are  those,  who  believe  that  God  creates,  immediately, 
all  the  volitions  of  the  mind.  There  are  others,  who  reject  this 
doctrine,  and  who  nevertheless  appear  at  least  to  admit,  that  he 
creates  all  its  virtuous  volitions.  Both  are,  in  my  view,  erroneous. 
The  Scriptures  appear  to  me  every  where  to  speak  of  man  as  an 
agent,  in  the  true  and  proper  sense.  When  angels  were  created  ; 
they  were  furnished  with  all  the  powers  of  such  an  agent,  and 
with  a  disposition,  propensity,  (or  what  in  the  Scriptures  is  called 
heart,)  to  use  them  in  a  virtuous  manner.  Such  a  disposition  is 
communicated  to  the  human  soul,  by  the  Holy  Ghost,  when  it  is 
renewed  unto  repentance.  This  disposition  ;  unknown,  I  confess, 
and  mysterious,  in  the  metaphysical  sense,  as  all  other  causes  are 
as  to  their  nature,  but  by  its  effects  as  clearly  proved  to  exist,  as 
any  other  cause  whatever ;  is  the  real  source  of  all  virtuous  voli- 
tions and  conduct,  in  every  virtuous  being.     It  now  became  the 


SER.  VI.]  THE  PRODIGAL  SON.  85 

disposition  of  the  prodigal ;  and  is  the  distinguishing  characteris- 
tic of  every  penitent.  His  determination  to  arise,  and  go  to  his 
father,  sprang  from  a  solid  conviction  of  the  propriety  of  this 
conduct,  and  a  real  change  in  his  disposition  :  a  complete  persua- 
sion, that  it  was  alike  his  duty  and  his  interest.  The  state  of  his 
mind  was  new ;  but  its  agency  was  entire,  and  its  actions  per- 
fectly voluntary.  The  determination  was  freely  and  cheerfully 
made ;  and  made  at  all  hazards ;  without  even  the  knowledge, 
that  he  would  be  accepted.     It  was,  therefore,  certainly  sincere. 

This  is  an  e.xact  description  of  the  state  of  mind,  which  pre- 
vails in  every  penitent.  A  sense  of  danger  and  of  suffering,  as 
was  remarked  in  the  former  discourse,  is  very  often  employed  by 
God  as  a  mean  of  bringing  a  sinner  to  repentance.  But,  were 
the  sinner  to  stop  here,  he  never  would  become  a  penitent.  To 
this  sense  must  be  added,  a  realizing  conviction  of  the  evil  nature 
of  his  past  conduct,  felt  in  such  a  manner,  as  to  make  it  exceed- 
ingly desirable  in  the  sinner's  view  to  forsake  his  former,  guilty, 
pursuits,  and  renounce  his  former,  sinful  character. 

2dly.  True  repentance  is  a  filial  temper  ;  disposing  us  to  regard 
God  as  our  parent^  and  ourselves  as  his  children. 

"  I  will  arise,  and  go  to  my  father." 

Originally  the  prodigal  used  this  compellation  with  a  design  to 
obtain  the  portion  of  goods,  which,  as  he  said,  fell  to  him,  and 
then  to  separate  himself  from  him  forever.  Now  he  adopted  the 
same  language  with  the  proper  temper  of  a  child.  Now  he  de- 
signs to  return  to  him  ;  and,  if  it  may  be  permitted,  to  live  with 
him,  to  honour  him,  to  love  him,  and  to  serve  him  even  in  the 
humble  station  of  a  hireling. 

Such  is  the  spirit  of  the  penitent.  Willing  as  he  was  in  his 
former  state  of  sin  to  forget  God,  and  little  as  he  thought  of  his 
character,  of  his  presence,  or  even  of  his  existence  ;  rarely  as  he 
felt  a  sense  of  duty,  or  reahzed  that  there  was  any  relation  or 
connection,  between  himself  and  his  Maker ;  he  now  remembers 
all  these  things  with  delight,  and  esteems  them  his  only  honour, 
comfort,  and  hope. 

Vol.  II.  12 


86  THE  PRODIGAL  SON.  [SER.  Vi. 

This  is  infinitely  the  most  important  relation,  which  intelUgent 
creatures  can  sustain.  To  be  the  child  of  God  ;  to  have  him  for 
our  Father,  Redeemer,  and  Sanctifier  ;  is  to  be  blessed  indeed. 
What  creature  would  dare,  unless  expressly  permitted  by  his  Cre- 
ator, to  challenge  this  relation,  and  adopt  this  language  ?  How 
much  less  would  sinners,  if  possessed  of  sober  thought,  presume, 
without  a  direct  license  from  heaven,  to  change  the  awful  name 
Creator  for  the  venerable,  endearing,  and  delightful  epithet  of 
Father  ;  or  to  convert  the  humble  title  of  creature,  into  the  eleva- 
ted appellation  of  child  ?  Who,  of  a  servant,  of  a  slothful  ser- 
vant, a  rebellious  servant,  would  expect  to  become  an  heir  ;  to  be 
acknowledged  as  a  child ;  and  to  be  put  in  possession  of  the  in- 
heritance which  is  undejiled,  and  fadeth  not  away  ?  Yet  this  is 
the  language,  which  we  are  commanded  to  adopt ;  this  the  char- 
acter, which  we  are  required  to  assume ;  and  these  the  blessings, 
which  we  are  destined  to  enjoy ;  whenever  we  become  the  sub- 
jects of  a  penitent  spirit. 

3dly.  True  repentance  is  followed  of  course  hy  the  confession 
of  sin. 

"  Father,  I  have  sinned,"  was  the  language  of  the  penitent 
prodigal.  He  was  ready  of  himself;  while  yet  unassured  of  ac- 
ceptance, and  before  his  parent  had  demanded  such  an  acknowl- 
edgment. It  was  the  spontaneous  dictate,  the  instinctive  lan- 
guage, of  his  heart ;  produced  as  naturally  by  his  present  dispo- 
sition, as  the  fruit  springs  from  its  native  tree. 

This,  also,  is  the  conduct  of  every  penitent.  While  his  ori- 
ginal spirit  remained  ;  while  he  was  stout  hearted,  and  therefore 
far  from  righteousness  ;  nothing  was  farther  from  his  thoughts, 
than  a  confession  of  his  guilt.  But  whenever  he  becomes  the 
subject  of  evangelical  contrition,  he  hates  the  sin  which  he  so 
intensely  loved  before  and  abhors  himself  for  having  committed 
it ;  sorrows  for  that,  in  which  he  delighted,  and  is  deeply  asham- 
ed for  that,  in  which  he  gloried.  This  sense  of  his  guilt  is  a  bur- 
den upon  his  heart,  with  which  he  labours,  and  is  heavy  laden ; 
and  to  confess  it  to  God  is  the  first  method  of  lightening  the  bur- 
den.   At  the  same  time,  it  is  the  most  natural,  the  most  obvious, 


SER.  VI.]  THE  PRODIGAL  SON.  87 

and  therefore  the  first,  mode  of  endeavouring  to  make  some 
amends  for  the  injustice  which  he  has  done  to  his  Maker.  In 
addition  to  this,  he  is,  also,  earnestly  desirous  to  declare  solemn- 
ly the  new  views  which  he  entertains  concerning  his  conduct ; 
the  change,  which  his  disposition  has  undergone  ;  and  the  de- 
terminations, which  he  has  formed  to  obey  hereafter.  A  prime 
difference  between  the  true  and  false  penitent  lies  in  this  :  the 
false  penitent  hates  the  confession,  and  loves  the  sin  :  the  true 
penitent  hates  the  sin,  and  loves  the  confession. 

4thly.  A  real  penitent  feels,  that  all  his  sins  are  committed 
against  God. 

"  I  have  sinned  against  Heaven." 

The  crime  of  the  prodigal  was  immediately  committed  against 
his  earthly  parent ;  yet,  we  see,  he  felt  it  to  have  been  supreme- 
ly committed  against  Heaven.  Accordingly,  his  confession  is, 
"  I  have  sinned  against  Heaven,  and  before  thee."  The  consid- 
eration, that  he  had  sinned  against  God,  was  that,  which  plainly 
distressed  him  more  than  any  other.  Sinners,  during  their  im- 
penitence, have  very  commonly  most  erroneous  apprehensions 
concerning  this  subject.  Some  of  them  feel,  as  if  their  sins  were 
never  committed  against  God,  because  they  are  unable  to  do 
him  any  harm  ;  because  they  cannot  lessen  his  glory  or  happi- 
ness nor  prevent  the  accomplishment  of  his  designs.  Were  this 
opinion  just ;  all  the  guilt  of  man  would  lie  in  the  power  to  do 
evil,  and  not  in  the  inclination.  Others  suppose  sins  against  God 
to  be  only  those,  which  are  directed  to  him  immediately  ;  such 
as  blasphemy  ;  perjury ;  profaneness,  and  other  exertions  of  im- 
piety. Those,  directed  immediately  to  men,  they  consider  as 
sins  against  men  only  ;  not  remembering,  that  God  has  forbidden 
trangressions  of  this  sort  equally  with  such  as  respect  himself; 
and  that,  therefore,  his  law  is  violated  in  the  one  case  in  the 
same  manner  as  in  the  other. 

That  these  views  are  false  and  groundless,  can  hardly  need 
proof.  The  divine  law  is  that,  which  is  broken  in  all  sin  ;  and 
God  is  the  Being,  who  is  supremely  offended.  In  this  fact  con- 
sists the  heinousness  of  sin,  wherever  it  exists.     It  is  true,  that 


88 


THE  PRODIGAL  SON.  [SER.  VI. 


in  the  crimes  which  immediately  respect  men,  we  sin  against 
them  also,  and  equally  true,  that  even  then  our  principal  guilt  hes 
in  sinning  against  God. 

In  this  manner  all  good  men  have  regarded  their  own  trans- 
gressions. In  this  manner  David  regarded  his  crime  against 
Uriah  ;  whom  yet  he  had  uijured  in  a  most  shameful  and  abomi- 
nable manner.  In  the  5 1  st  Psalm,  referring  to  this  transaction,  he 
says,  "  Against  thee,  thee  only,  have  I  sinned,  and  done  this 
evil  in  thy  sight."  With  the  same  views,  Joseph,  when  solicited 
by  Potiphar's  wife,  replied,  "  How  can  I  do  this  great  wicked- 
ness, and  sin  against  God  ?"  The  crime,  if  it  had  been  perpetra- 
ted, would  have  been  committed  immediately  against  his  Master. 
Yet  Joseph  dreaded  it  supremely,  as  an  offence  against  his  Ma- 
ker.    Such,  everywhere,  are  the  views  of  penitence  and  piety. 

Hence  it  is  evident,  that  he,  who  refers  his  sins  principally  to 
men  ;  even  those  which  are  committed  immediately  against 
them  ;  who  feels  regret,  when  they  are  offended,  and  is  at  ease 
when  they  forgive  ;  whose  conscience  looks  not  beyond  the  im- 
mediate objects  of  his  crimes,  and  is  unsolicitous  about  the  evil, 
which  he  has  done  against  God  ;  is  destitute  of  the  repentance 
of  the  Gospel. 

5thly.  A  real  penitent  is  of  course  hnmhle. 

"  Father,  I  have  sinned  against  Heaven,  and  before  thee  ;  and 
am  no  more  worthy  to  be  called  thy  son.  Make  me  as  one  of 
thy  hired  servants." 

Sin  is  the  most  disgraceful  character  in  the  Universe  ;  the 
most  odious,  debasing,  and  unworthy.  In  better  language,  it  is 
the  only  debasement,  and  the  only  disgrace.  When  the  sinner 
comes  to  himself,  and  begins  to  see  things  as  they  are  ;  he  per- 
ceives this  truth,  among  many  others,  in  a  clear  and  convincing 
light.  Then  there  is  no  character  too  humble  for  him  to  assume; 
no  station  too  lowly  for  him  to  take.  "  I  have  heard  of  thee," 
said  Job  to  his  Maker,  "  by  the  hearing  of  the  ear  ;  but  now 
mine  eye  seeth  thee.  Wherefore  I  abhor  myself,  and  repent  in 
dust  and  ashes."  "  But  we  are  all,"  says  the  church  in  Isaiah  Ixiv, 
"  as  an  unclean  thing  :  and  our  righteousnesses  are  as  filthy  rags  : 


SER.  VI.]  THE  PRODIGAL  SON.  89 

and  we  all  do  fade,  as  a  leaf;  and  our  iniquities,  like  the  wind, 
have  taken  us  away."  "  This  is  a  faithful  saying,"  said  St.  Paul 
to  Timothy^  "  that  Jesus  Christ  came  into  the  world  to  save  sin- 
ners; of  whom  I  am  chief."  And  again,  "  I  am  the  least  of  the 
Apostles,  and  am  not  worthy  to  be  called  an  Apostle."  "  I  am  a 
worm,"  said  David,  "  and  no  man  ;  a  reproach  of  men,  and 
despised  of  the  people.  Mine  iniquities  are  gone  over  my  head, 
as  an  heavy  burden  :  they  are  too  heavy  for  me."  In  this  man- 
ner have  all  the  sacred  writers  felt  and  spoken,  whenever  the 
subject  has  been  brought  up  to  view  :  and  in  this  manner  has 
every  penitent  felt  and  spoken,  from  the  begining  of  time.  Eve- 
ry penitent  knows,  that  he  has  been  an  apostate  ;  and  that,  there- 
fore, he  is  odious,  debased,  and  polluted,  in  the  sight  of  his  Ma- 
ker ;  that  he  has  nothing  of  his  own  ;  and  that  he  can  claim 
nothing  at  the  hand  of  God.  If  he  is  forgiven  ;  if  he  is  sancti- 
fied ;  if  he  is  adopted  ;  if  he  escapes  perdition  ;  if  he  has  a  sin- 
gle hope,  a  virtuous  affection,  or  a  good  thought :  all  these  are 
mere  gifts  from  the  free  sovereign  love  of  God.  When,  there- 
fore, he  considers  either  what  he  was  or  what  he  is-,  the  instinctive 
language  of  his  heart  will  be,  "  Not  unto  me,  not  unto  me,  but 
unto  thy  name,  be  the  glory." 

6thly.  A  real  penitent,  brings  nothing  to  God,  hut  his  want^ 
shame,  and  sorrow. 

The  prodigal  brought  nothing  to  his  father,  but  his  rags,  and 
wretchedness.  He  came  as  a  beggar,  possessing  nothing ;  pre- 
tending to  nothing  ;  soliciting  alm>s  ;  and  asking  for  a  very  hum- 
ble and  menial  employment  in  his  father's  family. 

A  sinner,  when  he  returns  to  God,  has  in  the  same  manner 
nothing  which  he  can  offer  to  his  Heavenly  Father,  beside  his 
wants  and  woes,  his  broken  heart  and  contrite  spirit.  He  has  no 
works  of  righteousness  to  recount ;  no  merit  to  present ;  and  no 
claims  to  allege  for  acceptance.  His  hope,  therefore,  instead  of 
being  placed  on  himself,  rests  wholly  on  his  father's  sovereign  and 
undeserved  goodness.  "  By  grace  are  ye  saved,  through,  faith, 
and  that  not  of  yourselves  ;  it  is  the  gift  of  God."  This  humilia- 
ting truth  he  not  only  acknowledges,  but  acknowledges  cheer- 
fully ;  with  ardent  gratitude ;  with  high  exultation. 


90  THE  PRODIGAL  SON.  [SER.  VI. 

His  sense  of  total  want  and  extreme  guilt,  is  the  very  cause, 
which  prompts  him  to  return :  and  his  only  address  to  his  Maker 
is,  "  Father,  I  have  sinned  against  Heaven,  and  before  thee  ;  and 
am  no  more  worthy  to  be  called  thy  son."  A  hrohen  heart  is  the 
sacrifice,  which  God  accepts  through  the  Redeemer;  but  he  will 
accept  no  other  sacrifice.  To  this  man  will  he  look ;  even  to  him, 
who  is  of  a  humble  and  contrite  spirit ;  but  he  will  look  to  no 
other.  The  hope  of  obtaining  forgiveness  by  means  of  our  own 
righteousness  is  a  direct  contradiction  to  the  repentance  of  the 
Gospel ;  and  is  entirely  opposed  to  the  Scriptural  scheme  of  com- 
ing to  God.  The  prodigal  thought  it  a  very  great  favour  to  he 
made  as  one  of  his  father^s  hired  servants ;  a  favour,  to  which 
he  makes  not  the  least  claim ;  but  humbly  hopes,  that  he  may 
derive  it  from  the  bounty  of  his  parent. 

7thly.  A  true  penitent  executes  his  resolutions  of  obedience. 

"And  he  arose,  and  came  to  his  Father." 

The  prodigal  not  only  resolved,  that  he  would  go,  and  confess 
his  sins  ;  but  he  actually  arose,  and  went,  and  confessed. 

Sinners,  who  enjoy  the  light  of  the  Gospel,  usually,  perhaps' 
universally,  with  more  or  less  strength,  and  more  or  less  frequent- 
ly, resolve  that  they  will  amend  their  ways  and  their  doings,  and 
obey  the  voice  of  the  Lord,  their  God.     In  most  cases,  however, 
their  resolutions  die,  as  an  untimely  birth. 

Look  back  at  the  past  state  of  your  own  lives.  When  solemn 
occasions  have  occurred ;  when  you  have  heard  discourses  from 
the  desk,  of  a  tenour  peculiarly  affecting ;  when  you  have  been 
brought  by  disease  near  to  the  grave ;  when  your  companions 
have  fallen  suddenly  around  you  :  have  not  you  yourselves  been 
alarmed  on  account  of  your  sins  ;  trembled  under  a  sense  of  your 
danger ;  and  formed  serious  resolutions  to  repent,  and  turn  to 
God  ?  But  what  has  been  the  effect  of  these  resolutions  ?  Have 
they  not  been  mere  blossoms  ;  which,  though  fair  indeed  to  the 
eye,  and  promising  good  fruit,  have  fallen  prematurely,  and  per- 
ished forever  ? 

Such  is  not  the  conduct  of  a  penitent.  He  resolves,  as  you 
have  done ;  but  never  rests,  till  the  object  of  his  resolutions  is 
accomplished.    The  purpose  of  returning  to  God  is  the  favorite 


SER.  VI.]  THE  PRODIGAL  SON.  91 

concern  of  his  heart ;  and  becomes,  therefore,  the  prime  business 
of  his  hfe.  Without  it  he  considers  himself  as  undone.  His 
present  condition  is  full  of  alarm,  and  distress  ;  and  his  destiny  is 
absolute  ruin.  Whatever,  therefore,  can  consist  with  his  continu- 
ance in  sin  he  regards  as  vain,  useless,  dangerous,  and  dreadful ; 
and,  however  soothing,  quieting,  and  comforting,  as  an  opiate 
which  will  bring  on  the  sleep  of  death. 

At  the  same  time  he  considers  a  reconciliation  to  God,  the  for- 
giveness of  his  sins,  his  justification,  adoption,  and  sanctification, 
as  the  best  of  all  blessings ;  as  the  sources  of  all  real  worth,  and  the 
basis  of  all  well  founded  hope.  Without  them  he  can  neither  be 
approved  by  himself,  nor  loved  by  God  ;  neither  comfortable  here, 
nor  happy  hereafter.  With  these  views,  it  cannot  be  wondered  at, 
that  he  should  never  rest,  until  he  has  renounced  his  sins,  confess- 
ed them  to  his  Maker,  and  commenced  a  life  of  new  and  faithful 
obedience. 

8thly.  God  is  entirely  disposed  to  receive  the  sincere  penitent. 

"  But,  when  he  was  yet  a  great  way  off,  his  father  saw  him, 
and  had  compassion ;  and  ran,  and  fell  on  his  neck,  and  kiss- 
ed him." 

Never  was  a  spirit  of  tenderness,  and  reconciliation,  exhibi- 
ted with  equal  force  and  beauty.  The  moment,  he  saw  him,  his 
compassion  was  kindled.  Instead  of  waiting  to  permit  the  un- 
grateful wretch  to  come,  and  propose  terms  of  reconciliation, 
he  ran  immediately  to  him.  Instead  of  reproaching,  or  even 
reproving,  him  for  his  filial  impiety  ;  instead  of  upbraiding  him 
for  his  profligacy  ;  instead  of  reminding  him  of  his  folly,  and  of 
its  miserable  consequences  ;  instead  of  delaying,  to  hear  his  ex- 
cuses for  the  transgressions  of  his  past  life,  or  his  promises  of 
amendment  for  the  future  :  he  fell  upon  his  neck,  and  kissed  him. 
Nor  was  even  this  all.  He  interrupted  the  very  confession,which 
his  miserable  son  had  begun  to  make.  And  how  did  he  interrupt 
it?  Not  with  reproofs;  not  even  with  a  welcome.  The  deplorable 
condition,  the  famished  frame,  the  meagre  countenance,  the  hag- 
gard eyes,  the  quivering  voice,  of  the  perishing  suppliant  would 
not  admit,  in  the  mind  of  such  a  parent  of  a  protracting  thought, 
which  might  prevent  the  necessary  relief  from  being  immediate. 


92  THE  PRODIGAL  SO^.  [SER.  VI. 

He,  therefore,  ordered  his  servants  to  furnish  in  an  instant,  the 
means  of  comfort,  which  he  felt  to  be  so  afiectingly  demanded: 
and  these  were  such,  as  to  place  his  father's  willingness  to  receive 
him  beyond  the  doubts  even  of  scepticism  itself. 

All  these,  it  is  to  be  remembered,  are  the  language  of  Christ 
himself;  who  certainly  knew  the  real  disposition  of  God  towards 
returning  sinners  :  and  surely  he,  who  laid  down  his  life,  that  sin- 
ners might  return,  cannot  be  supposed  to  have  deceived  them  of 
design.  God  is,  therefore,  just  as  kindly  disposed,  as  in  this  par- 
able he  is  represented  to  be.  The  calls,  mvitations,  and  promi- 
ses, which  he  has  given  us  in  the  Gospel,  mean  the  utmost  of 
what  they  express  ;  and  God  is  as  earnestly  desirous,  that  sin- 
ners sliould  return  to  him,  and  as  much  pleased  when  they  ac- 
tually return,  as  the  strongest  language  of  the  Gospel  declares. 
He  is  long  suffering  to  us-ward ;  not  willing^  that  any  should 
perish^  hut  that  they  shoidd  come  to  repentance,  "  Have  I  any 
pleasure  at  all,  that  the  wicked  should  die,"  saith  the  Lord  God, 
"  and  not  that  he  should  return  from  his  ways,  and  live  ?  There- 
fore, O  Son  of  man,  speak  unto  the  house  of  Israel,"  Thus  ye 
speak,  "  If  our  transgressions,  and  our  sins,  be  upon  us,  and  we 
pine  away  in  them  ;  how  shall  we  then  hve  ?"  Say  unto  them, 
"  As  I  live,  saiih  the  Lord  God,  1  have  no  pleasure  in  the  death 
of  the  wicked,  but  that  the  wicked  turn  from  his  way,  and  live. 
Turn  ye,  turn  ye,  from  your  evil  ways  ;  for  why  will  ye  die,  O 
house  of  Israel  ?" 

But  the  proof,  which  is  better  fitted  to  affect  the  mind,  than 
any  other,  with  strong  conviction  of  this  great  truth,  is  found  in 
the  wonderful  things,  which  have  been  done  for  the  salvation  of 
sinners.  If  God  was  reluctant  to  save  sinners  ;  if  he  was  indif- 
ferent concerning  their  salvation  ;  if  he  was  not  earnestly  desi- 
rous, that  they  should  be  saved  :  why  did  he  send  his  Son  to  die 
for  them,  and  his  spirit  to  sanctify  them  ?  Why  did  Christ  live  a 
life  of  poverty,  persecution,  and  sorrow  ?  Why  did  he  agonize  in 
the  garden  ^  ascend  the  cross  ;  and  go  down  into  the  grave  ? 
Why  was  the  Word  of  God  published  to  mankind  ?  Why  was 
the  Sabbath  sequestered;  but  that  mankind  might  enjoy  a  peace- 
nl,  happy,  heavenly  season  for  the  attainment  of  endless  life  ? 


SEE.  VI.]  THE  PRODIGAL  SON.  93 

Why  were  the  doors  of  the  Sanctuary  opened  f  but  that  we 
might  enter  in,  and  he  saved.  Why  were  these  solemn  ordinan- 
ces estabHshed  ;  and  ministers  commissioned  to  teach  all  nations 
the  Gospel  of  grace,  and  to  baptize  them  into  the  Name  of  the 
Father,  and  of  the  So.n,  and  of  the  Holy  Ghost  ?  Why  are  you, 
week  by  week,  summoned  on  this  solemn  day,  and  in  this  holy 
place,  to  repentance  an'd  faith  in  the  Lord  Jesus.  Certainly,  if 
God  had  been  pleased  that  sinners  should  perish,  they  might 
have  perished  without  these  wonderful  efforts  for  their  salvation. 
Nay  they  would  have  perished  of  course  :  and  you  would  have 
perished  among  them.  Not  an  effort  would  you  have  made  for 
your  salvation  ;  not  a  hope  would  you  have  entertained  ;  but  for 
this  compassionate  interference  of  your  Maker. 

The  very  threatenings  of  the  Gospel  are  a  proof  of  his  earn- 
est desire,  that  you  should  obtain  eternal  life.  They  compel,  as 
the  promises  allure,  you  to  the  divine  attainment ;  and,  laying 
hold  on  the  strongest  principles  of  action,  rouse  your  fears,  where 
your  attachments  and  your  hopes  would  have  slept  over  the 
burnings  of  devouring  fire.  Remember  that  all  the  evils,  which 
these  threatenings  denounce,  might  with  perfect  ease  have  been 
executed  to  the  full ;  without  a  single  warning  given  to  you,  that 
you  were  even  in  danger.  Why,  then,  were  you  warned  to  flee 
from  the  wrath  to  come,  but  that  you  might  lay  hold  on  eter- 
nal life  ? 

These  tidings  are  the  best  which  were  ever  published  in  this 
melancholy  world.  They  have  astonished  heaven ;  and  ought 
to  awaken  an  universal  transport  upon  earth.  They  are  tidings 
cordially  announced.  The  good,  which  they  convey,  is  real,  and 
may  be  yours.  Renounce  your  unbelief.  It  is  your  ruin.  Re- 
member, and  believe  while  you  remember,  that,  at  the  first  indi- 
cation of  your  willingness  to  return,  God  is  ready  to  meet  you^ 
while  a  great  way  off;  and  will  freely  pardon,  justify,  and  ac- 
cept you,  will  leceive  you  to  himself,  and  give  you  the  blessings 
of  a  glorious  immortality. 

9thly.  The  richest  provision  is  made  for  the  enjoyment  of  the 
sincere  penitent. 

Vol.  II.  13 


94  THE  PRODIGAL  SON.  [SEE.  VI 

"  But  the  Father  said  to  the  servants,  '  Bring  forth  the  best 
robe,  a'tid  put  it  on  him  ;  and  put  a  ring  on  his  hand,  and  shoes 
on  his  feet ;  and  bring  hither  the  fatted  calf,  and  kill  it.'  " 

All  these  are  the  entertainment  of  him,  whose  utmost  hope 
was  to  have  been  made  as  one  of  his  father'' s  hired  servants^ 
and  who  doubted  whether  even  this  boon  might  be  granted. 
What  a  contrast  is  here  presented  to  the  rags,  hunger,  and  shame, 
of  the  miserable  beggar  upon  whom  they  were  bestowed  ? 

All  these  are  the  strongest  proofs  of  kindness  in  earthly  pa- 
rents ;  and  are  of  course  the  most  proper  symbols  of  the  kind- 
ness with  which  onr  Father  who  is  in  Heaven^  receives  his  peni- 
tent children.  At  the  same  time,  they  are  forcible  proofs  that 
they  are  in  want  of  all  necessary  good.  The  robe,  the  ring,  the 
shoes,  and  the  fatted  calf,  are  gifts  to  him  who  has  neither  orna- 
ments, nor  necessaries  ;  who  is  hungry,  naked,  and  in  want  of 
all  things. 

The  very  best  gifts  in  the  divine  kingdom  will  be  bestowed  on 
the  returning  sinner ;  the  forgiveness  of  his  sins  ;  the  justifica- 
tion, and  adoption,  of  his  person,  the  sanctification  of  his  soul ; 
direction,  support,  and  comfort  in  his  way  to  endless  life  ;  ad- 
mission into  heaven,  the  sight  of  God  ;  the  supreme  love  of  his 
character  ;  the  knowledge  of  his  dispensations  ;  the  enjoyment 
of  his  favour  ;  and  the  friendship  of  his  glorious  family.  These 
are  blessings,  for  which  the  Universe  would  be  a  cheap  price ; 
and  which  all  its  inhabitants  would  be  unable  to  purchase. 

lOthly.  Titer e  is  peculiar  joy  in  Heaven  over  the  repentance 
of  returning  sinners. 

"  Let  us  eat,  and  be  merry  ;  for  this  my  son  was  dead,  and  is 
alive  again  ;  he  was  lost,  and  is  found." 

"  There  is  joy  in  Heaven  over  one  sinner  that  repenteth,  more 
than  over  ninety  and  nine  just  persons  who  need  no  repentance." 
Feasting,  music,  and  dancing,  the  highest  testimonies  of  earthly 
pleasure,  welcomed  the  prodigal  to  his  Father's  house;  and  were 
chosen  by  our  Saviour,  to  exhibit  the  feelings  excited  in  the 
Heavenly  world  by  the  return  of  the  spiritual  prodigal.  This 
truth,  may  indeed,  be  considered  as  the  burden  or  moral  of  the 
whole  parable  ;  as  it  is  expressly,  of  the  two,  which  immediately 


SER.  VI.j  THE  PRODIGAL  SON.  95 

precede  it.  The  work  of  redemption  is  exhibited  in  the  Scrip- 
tures as  the  greatest  and  most  signal  work  of  God  ;  as  the  prime 
object  of  his  creation,  and  providence  ;  and  as  the  chief  mfeans 
of  manifesting  his  wisdom  to  principalities  and  pouwrs  in  Jieav- 
enly  places.  That  these  illustrious  beings  should  rejoice  with 
peculiar  joy  in  a  work,  which  sustains  all  these  characters,  is  to 
be  beheved  of  course. 

At  the  same  time,  the  nature  of  the  case  itself  furnishes  the 
most  solid  foundation  for  intense  and  peculiar  joy.  The  soul  is 
of  infinite  value.  In  this  case,  it  has  been  lost  to  the  Universe. 
Now  it  is  found  again.  It  has  been  dead  in  trespasses  and  sin. 
Now  it  is  quickened  with  the  principles  of  immortal  life.  An- 
other trophy  is  added  to  the  victories  of  Christ ;  another  gem, 
to  his  crown  of  glory.  A  deathless  mind  has  secured  a  title  to 
the  never  ending  happiness  of  heaven.  A  new  and  eternal  in- 
habitant is  introduced  into  that  happy  world.  The  glory  of  Je- 
hovah is  seen,  and  will  forever  be  seen,  with  new  splendour : 
and  a  new  theme  of  transport  is  added  to  the  everlasting  song 
"  Unto  Him,  that  loved  us,  and  washed  us  from  our  sins  in  his 
own  blood,  and  hath  made  us  kings,  and  priests,  unto  God,  even 
his  father  ;  to  Him  be  glory,  and  dominion,  forever  and  ever. — 
Amen," 

REMARK. 

What  inducements  are  here  presented  to  sinners^  to  return 
to  God  ? 

The  Scriptures  invite,  entreat  and  command  you  to  forsake 
your  sins  and  become  reconciled  to  your  Maker.  How  affecting 
is  the  manner  in  which  all  this  is  done  !  Do  you  need  conviction 
of  your  necessities,  your  guilt,  and  the  wretchedness  of  your 
present  condition?  How  strongly  have  they  painted  it  to  your 
eyes?  How  truly?  With  what  irresistible  proof !  How  plainly 
is  the  story  of  the  prodigal  your  own  story  !  Like  him  you  have 
been  furnished  by  your  Heavenly  Father  with  many,  and  those 
the  most  valuable,  powers,  enjoyments  and  blessmgs,  in  them- 
selves ;  and  when  used  aright,  the  effectual  means  of  glorious 


9G  THE  PlRODIGAL  SON.  [SER.  VL 

and  immortal  good.  But  your  privileges  you  have  prostituted ; 
your  blessings  you  have  wasted  on  objects  which  were  of  no  solid 
or  enduring  value. 

Your  situation  is  that  of  the  prodigal.  In  a  far  country,  remo- 
ved from  God,  his  house,  and  his  family,  you  are  voluntary  exiles 
from  your  friends,  and  your  home ;  are  alone ;  friendless ;  in 
want ;  and  in  rags ;  and  are  enlisted  in  the  service  of  Satan,  of 
sm,  and  of  evil  men  ;  not  one  of  whom  has  any  real  good  to  give, 
or,  if  he  had,  would  give  it  to  you.  All  are  in  the  same  desolate 
and  barren  region ;  are  themselves  perishing  with  famine ;  and 
are  destitute  of  friendship  to  you,  and  to  each  other. 

In  this  forlorn  situation,  if  ever  you  open  your  eyes,  and  look 
around  ;  you  will  see  neither  comfort,  nor  hope,  to  vary  the  eter- 
nal prospect  of  want,  shame,  and  woe. 

Is  it  not  then  infinitely  desirable  to  know,  that  you  have  a 
home  to  which  you  may  go :  plenty  to  which  you  may  betake 
yourselves;  friends  from  whom  you  may  derive  kindness  and 
consolation ;  and  a  father  yet  remaining,  who,  though  so  long 
forsaken,  is  still  willing  to  acknowledge  this  relation  to  you?  In 
his  tenderness  you  may  find  an  asylum  ;  to  his  arms  you  may  be 
welcomed ;  in  his  house  you  may  find  an  everlasting  residence. 
There  all  good  things  abound,  are  treasured  up,  and  bestowed 
with  unwearied,  as  well  as  unlimited,  bounty. 

Behold  that  father  advancing  to  meet  you  on  your  way  !  Hear 
him  calling  to  you  with  infinite  compassion.  Ho !  thou  starving, 
perishing  prodigal.  Return  to  me,  and  to  mine.  Art  thou  hun- 
gry? I  will  feed  thee  with  living  bread.  Art  thou  thirsty  ?  I  will 
lead  thee  to  fountains  of  living  waters.  Art  thou  naked  ?  I  will 
clothe  thee  with  the  robe  of  righteousness.  Art  thou  weary  ?  I 
will  guide  thee  to  eternal  rest.  Art  thou  friendless?  I  will  be  to 
thee  a  Father,  and  an  everlasting  friend.  Dead,  thou  shalt  live 
again.  Lost,  I  will  restore  thee  to  a  Universe  of  joy.  Come;  all 
things  are  ready.  See,  heaven  is  opened.  Behold  angels^  and 
the  spirits  of  jvst  men  made  perfect,  waiting  for  thy  arrival !  See 
the  golden  sceptre  of  forgiveness  extended  before  thee !  Ap- 
proach, and  touch,  and  live  forever. 


SERMON  VII. 

THOSE    WHO   BELIEVE   NOT    THE    SCRIPTURES,    WOULD    NOT    BE 
PERSUADED,  THOUGH  ONE  ROSE  FROM  THE  DEAD. 

-*=—©—<=- 

Luke  xvi.  31. 

And  he  said  unto  hhn,  "  If  they  hear  not  Moses,  and  the  proph- 
ets^ neither  will  they  he  persuaded  though  one  rose  from  the  dead.''' 

These  words  are  the  close  of  the  parable,  uttered  by  our  Sav- 
iour concerning  the  Rich  man  and  Lazarus.  The  rich  man  had 
solicited  of  Abraham,  that  Lazarus  might  come  to  his  relief,  in 
the  place  where  he  was  tormented.  When  he  found  this  request 
could  not  be  granted  ;  he  besought  Abraham,  that  he  would  send 
Lazarus  to  his  father's  house  :  "  for,  said  he,  I  have  five  brethren ; 
that  he  may  testify  unto  them  lest  they,  also,  come  into  this  place 
of  torment."  Abraham  replied,  "  They  have  Moses,  and  the 
prophets  :  let  them  hear  them."  And  he  said,  "  Nay,  Father 
Abraham :  but,  if  one  went  unto  them  from  the  dead,  they  will 
repent."  Abraham  replied,  "  If  they  hear  not  Moses  and  the 
prophets  ;  neither  will  they  be  persuaded  though  ©ne  rose  from 
the  dead."  This,  certainly,  is  a  very  strong  assertion.  Multi- 
tudes have  probably  discredited  the  truth  of  it  without  hesitation. 
Others  have  undoubtedly  thought  it  a  hard  saying  :  and  others 
still,  unwilling  to  treat  the  Scriptures  with  irreverence,  have  in- 
deed admitted  it  to  be  true,  but  in  a  manner,  which  they  did  not 
perceive ;  and  were  ready  to  suppose,  that  they  could  not  com- 
prehend it. 

As  all  Scripture  is  given  by  inspiration  of  God  ;  it  must  all 
be  true,  whether  believed  by  us,  or  not ;  or,  if  believed,  whether 
the  manner,  in  which  it  is  true,  be  understood  by  us,  or  not. 
Still  it  is  always  desirable  to  know  the  manner,    in  which  any 


93  UNBELIEVERS  WOULD  NOT  BE  PERSUADED,      [SER.  VIL 

thing  is  true,  so  far  as  we  may.  There  are  many  mysterious 
truths,  which  we  are  necessitated  to  beheve  by  the  soundest 
philosophy ;  and  many  others,  which  we  are  required  to  admit, 
implicitly,  by  the  authority  of  God.  Yet  it  is  our  duty  to  under- 
stand, wherever  we  can,  not  only  the  truth  itself,  but  the  ev- 
idence also,  by  which  it  is  supported.  Wherever  this  can  be 
done  to  our  own  satisfaction,  it  will  enable  us,  often,  to  confute 
gainsayers  ;  to  remove  plausible  objections  against  the  Word  of 
God  ;  and  to  convince  those,  who  are  not  unwilling  to  be  con- 
vinced. 

In  the  text  it  is  declared,  that  those,  wiio  believe  not  Moses 
and  the  prophets  ;  or  the  Scriptures  of  the  Old  Testament ; 
would  not  be  persuaded  to  repentance  and  reformation,  although 
one  should  rise  from  the  dead,  and  testify  the  indispensable  im- 
portance, and  supreme  necessity,  of  both.  The  Scriptures  of 
the  New  Testament  were  at  that  time  not  written.  This  ap- 
peal, therefore,  could  not  be  made  to  them.  As  it  stands  in  the 
text,  1  believe  it  to  be  exactly  true.  Still,  I  shall  extend  it  in  the 
following  discourse  to  the  whole  Sacred  Canon  ;  because  our 
own  concern  with  the  doctrine  lies  in  applying  it  to  both  Testa- 
ments united.  To  a  Jew  the  words  of  Christ,  here  put  into  the 
mouth  of  Abraha?)i,  were  addressed  with  absolute  propriety,  and 
irresistible  force.  To  us  the  case  scarcely  becomes  a  practical 
one,  without  involving  in  the  doctrine  the  whole  body  of  Rev- 
elation. 

In  canvassing  this  subject  at  the  present  time,  I  will, 

I.  Consider  the  evidence  of  Divine  Truths  presented  by  one, 
jnsenfrom  the  dead. 

II.  /  will  examine  the  evidence  of  the  same  truth,  furnished  hy 
the  Scriptures  ;  and  the  advantages  of  that  evidence  for  convin- 
cing and  iiersuading  the  mind. 

III.  /  shall  attempt  to  shoio,  that  the  doctrine,  illustrated  hy 
this  comparison,  is  true. 

I.  /  shall  consider  the  evidence  of  Divine  Truth,  presented 
hy  a  person,  risen  from  the  dead,  and  its  probable  effects  upon 
mankind. 


SER.  VII.]  THOUGH  ONE  ROSE  FROM  THE  DEAD.  99 

Here  it  will  be  necessary  to  confine  the  case  to  such,  as  actu- 
ally saw,  and  conversed  with  the  person  who  had  risen.  This 
plainly,  is  the  very  case,  supposed  in  the  text.  The  Rich  man 
washes,  that  Lazarus  may  be  sent  in  person  to  hi,s  brethren.  It 
is  to  this  request,  that  the  answer  of  Abraham  is  directed  :  and 
this  is  the  case,  included  in  the  declaration,  which  is  now  the 
subject  of  enquiry.  A  person,  whom  we  saw  rising  from  the 
dead  would  affect  us  deeply,  A  person,  of  whose  resurrection 
we  had  only  heard,  would  comparatively  affect  us  very  little. 
Our  inquiries,  therefore,  ought  to  be  confined  to  the  former  of 
these  cases,  if  we  would  even  appear  to  do  justice  to  the  subject. 
With  this  scheme  of  investigation  before  me,  I  proceed  to  ob- 
serve, 

Istly.  That  the  imvressions^  made  by  One  who  was  seen  to  7'ise 
from  the  grave,  and  gave  to  the  Spectators  his  testimony  concern- 
ing a  future  state,  would  undoubtedly  be  great  and  solemn. 

This  truth  is  enforced  upon  the  conviction  of  every  man  by 
the  mere  impulse  of  his  own  feelings.  We  see  all  men  listen  ; 
nay,  we  ourselves  have  often  listened  ;  to  ,stories  concerning  the 
appearance  of  the  inhabitants  of  the  invisible  world,  with  an  at- 
tention singular,  and  with  emotions  appalling  the  imagination, 
and  engrossing  the  heart.  A  person,  known  to  have  come  from 
that  world ;  a  person,  seen  to.  ascend  from  the  grave;  would, 
therefore,  exceedingly  engross  and  alarm  the  minds  of  men. 
The  apprehension,  that  he  had  come  from  the  unknown,  unvisi- 
ted  region,  to  which  the  soul  is  summoned,  when  it  bids  adieu  to 
the  body  ;  that  he  dwelt  there,  and  knew  whatever  existed,  or 
was  transacted,  there  ;  would  "be  among  the  most  solemn  of  all 
apprehensions.  Whatever  he  said,  he  would  be  justly  consider- 
ed as  speaking  from  his  own  experience.  He  would  be  regarded 
as  uttering,  not  doctrines,  but  facts.  His  discourses  would  not 
be  cold  dissertations  concerning  abstract  subjects,  apt  in  their 
nature  to  be  uninteresting,  and  addressed  only  to  the  intellect ; 
but  histories  of  events,  which  had  actually  taken  place,  and 
brought  directly  home  to  the  soul.  The  miseries  which  he  had 
suffered,  or  the  happiness  which  he  had  enjoyed,  would  flow  from 


100  UNBELIEVERS  WOULD  NOT  BE  PERSUADED,       [SER.  Vlf. 

his  tongue  in  the  Hving  language  of  the  heart.  His  views  would 
be  the  sun-bright  views  of  experience.  His  emotions  would  be 
awakened  by  intense  woe,  or  kindled  by  the  flame  of  immortal 
life.  "  His  thoughts  would  breathe :  his  words  would  burn." 
He,  who  was  not  moved  by  them,  would  be  justly  pronounced  to 
have  a  heart,  formed  of  the  nether  mill-stone. 

2dly.  The  evidence^  which  would  attend  every  thing  said  by 
such  a  person^  wotdd  be  irresistible. 

The  miracle  of  his  resurrection  would  furnish  unanswerable 
proofs,  that  he  was  sent  by  God  :  evidence,  which  every  man 
could  understand,  and  which  no  man  without  absolute  sottish- 
ness  could  fail  to  feel.  But  he,  who  is  sent  by  God,  will,  of 
course,  speak  that  which  is  true.  Even  Balaam  hardened  as 
he  was  in  sin,  has  taught  this  truth  in  the  most  forcible  manner. 
"  Lo,"  said  he  unto  Balak,  "  I  am  now  come  unto  thee.  Have 
I  now  any  power  at  all  to  say  any  thing  ?  The  word,  that  God 
putteth  into  my  mouth,  that  shall  I  speak.  How  shall  I  curse, 
whom  God  hath  not  cursed  ;  or  how  shall  I  defy,  whom  Jeho- 
vah hath  not  defied  ?  Behold,  I  have  received  commandment  to 
bless,  and  he  hath  blessed,  and  I  cannot  reverse  it."  As,  there- 
fore, the  mission  of  this  person  would  be  certainly  known  to  be 
from  God  ;  whatever  he  said  would  be  attended  with  invincible 
evidence  of  its  certainty.  At  the  same  time,  both  from  the  na- 
ture of  the  subjects,  concerning  which  his  testimony  was  given ; 
and  the  high  authority  of  his  mission,  from  the  fact  that  he  was 
an  inhabitant  of  the  eternal  world,  and  from  the  miracle  of  his 
resurrection  ;  it  would  be  equally  evident,  that  whatever  he  said 
was  of  the  highest  importance  to  mankind.  To  those,  who 
were  witnesses  of  his  resurrection,  therefore,  his  whole  message 
would  come,  fraught  with  all  the  proof  which  could  be  desired. 

Still  I  am  apprehensive,  that  his  power  to  persuade  men  to  re- 
pentance and  reformation  would  be  much  less,  than  at  first 
thought  would  be  naturally  imagined ;  and  that  those,  who  re- 
sist the  various  appeals  of  the  Scriptures  to  the  conscience  and 
the  heart,  would  find  means,  also,  of  resisting  him.  To  satisfy 
ourselves,  let  us  now 


SER.  VII]  THOUGH  ONE  ROSE  FROM  THE  DEAD.  101 

11.  Examine  the  evidence  of  Divine  Truth,  furnished  by  the 
the  Scriptures  j  and  the  advantages  which  they  possess  for  con- 
vincing,  and  persuading  the  mind. 

In  this  examination  the 

1st  Thing  that  meets  us  is,  that  the  Scriptures  were  written 
by  God  ;  and  were,  therefore,  written  in  the  best  manner,  that 
was  possible,  to  accomplish  their  end. 

It  will,  I  suppose,  be  admitted  without  a  question,  that  the  end, 
for  which  the  Scriptures  were  written,  is  to  persuade  mankind  to 
repentance  and  reformation.  Much  less  can  it  be  questioned, 
that  the  wisdom  of  God  enabled  him  to  discern  the  best  manner 
of  promoting  this  end,  or  that  his  goodness  induced  him  to  adopt 
it.  The  Scriptures,  therefore,  are  actually  written  in  this  man- 
ner ;  and  are  in  the  highest  degree  fitted  to  effectuate  this  per- 
suasion. 

2dly.  The  things  which  are  communicated  in  the  Scriptures 
concerning  our  future  existence,  are  in  their  nature  the  most  sol- 
emn and  itnpressive  which  can  be  conceived. 

They  are  such,  as  God  thought  it  wisest  and  best  to  communi- 
cate ;  and  are  therefore,  certainly,  the  wisest  and  best  possible. 
In  their  own  nature  also,  and  as  they  appear  in  themselves  to  our 
eyes,  they  possess  an  immeasurable  solemnity  and  importance. 
The  account  which  is  there  given  of  the  judgment,  of  the  final 
sentence,  and  the  grounds  on  which  it  is  uttered,  of  the  glories  of 
Heaven,  and  the  miseries  of  Hell,  is  fraught  with  an  awful  and 
amazing  grandeur,  and  a  superlative  interest,  which  overwhelm 
the  imagination,  and  spread  far  beyond  the  utmost  comprehen- 
sion of  the  understanding.  No  objects  can  affect  the  mind  equal- 
ly with  these  ;  and  no  method  of  communicating  them,  equally 
with  that  contained  in  the  Scriptures. 

A  person  risen  from  the  dead,  might,  I  acknowledge,  disclose 
a  variety  of  particulars  concerning  this  subject ;  and  inform  us 
of  many  things,  which  God  has  not  thought  proper  to  unfold  in 
the  Scriptures.  I  will  readily  admit,  that  in  all  probability  they 
would  be  universally  interesting.  But,  when  the  Scriptures  as- 
sert, that  they  contain  all  things  necessary  for  life,  and  for  god- 
Vol.  IL  14 


102  UNBELIEVERS  WOULD  NOT  BE  PERSUADED,       [SER.  Vlf 

liness,  I  cannot  admit,  that  these  communications,  made  by  an 
inhabitant  of  the  unseen  world,  would,  upon  the  whole,  be  profita- 
ble to  us.  The  secret  things,  we  are  told,  belong  to  God  ;  but 
those  things,  which  are  revealed,  belong  unto  us,  and  to  our  chil- 
dren, forever  ;  that  we  may  do  all  the  words  of  his  law.  The  se- 
cret things  are  those,  which  God  has  hidden  from  us,  or  chosen 
not  to  reveal  to  us  :  and  these  he  has  kept  secret  for  the  same 
benevolent  purpose,  for  which  he  has  revealed  others :  to  wit, 
that  he  might  enable  and  incline  us  to  do  all  the  words  of  his 
law.  Had  more  been  revealed  ;  we  should  be  less  able  and  less 
inclined  to  perform  this  duty,  as  truly,  as  if  he  had  revealed  few- 
er. In  other  words.  Revelation  has  stopped  at  the  point,  which, 
if  we  were  competent  judges,  we  should  pronounce  the  best. 

The  communications,  made  by  a  person,  risen  from  the  dead  ; 
those,  I  mean,  of  which  I  have  been  speaking;  would  undoubt- 
edly gratify  in  a  high  degree  our  curiosity  ;  and  might  in  an  equal 
degree  affect  our  hearts.  But  it  can  scarcely  be  doubted,  that 
they  would  also  awaken  in  us  a  thousand  perplexities  concerning 
a  state  of  existence,  so  little  like  our  own  ;  and  the  particulars 
of  which  it  must  be  so  difficult  to  reconcile  to  our  apprehensions 
of  what  is  wise  and  proper,  and  to  explain  to  our  entire  satisfac- 
tion. That,  which  was  disclosed,  would  demand  another  disclo- 
sure, to  unfold  its  nature  and  propriety  ;  and  that,  another,  and 
another,  without  end.  The  mysteries  even  of  the  present  world 
are  innumerable  :  and  the  efforts  of  Philosophy,  after  all  its  la- 
bours, have  left  most  of  them  as  it  found  them.  They  are  mys- 
teries still  In  almost  every  science  we  find,  after  advancing  a 
little  way,  scarcely  any  thing  but  perplexity,  doubt,  and  despair. 
If  this  is  the  case  in  a  world,  in  which  we,  and  those  who  have 
gone  before  us,  have  lived  so  long,  and  laboured  so  much ;  what 
must  be  the  case  with  regard  to  the  disclosures  of  a  single  indi- 
vidual concerning  the  future  world ;  a  world  so  unlike  our  own  ; 
where  all  must  be  new,  wonderful,  and  to  such  beings  as  we 
are  chiefly  inexplicable  ?  Information,  like  this,  could  scarcely 
be  favorable  to  the  faith  or  reformation  of  mankind. 


^ER.  VII]  THOUGH  ONE  ROSE  FROM  THE  DEAD.  103 

At  the  same  time,  there  is  no  small  reason  to  believe,  that  such 
amazing  scenes,  as  those  of  futurity,  when  disclosed  by  one  of 
its  inhabitants,  would  in  the  proper  sense,  overwhelm  our  minds; 
and  leave  us  utterly  unqualified  for  rational  thought,  and  useful 
exertion.  When  the  mind  is  wrought  up  to  a  very  high  pitch  of 
feeling  ;  neither  its  views,  nor  its  determinations,  are  usually  of 
much  value.  As  these  things  are  presented  in  the  Scriptures ; 
they  are  certainly  sufficiently  awful.  Few  persons  can  meet 
them  with  a  steady  eye,  or  hear  them  without  a  tingling  ear.  Most 
attend  to  them,  only  when  they  are  compelled ;  and  turn  away 
their  attention  from  them  as  soon  as  it  is  in  their  power.  Upon 
the  whole,  it  may  well  be  questioned,  whether  any  thing  would 
be  gained  towards  the  reformation  of  mankind  by  a  further  dis- 
closure of  these  subjects,  either  more  extended,  or  more  minute. 

3dly.  Beside  the  things,  which  a  person,  risen  from  the  dead, 
could  unfold,  the  Scriptures  afford  many  others  pre-eminently 
important,  and  affecting. 

In  the  Scriptures  we  are  taught  innumerable  doctrins  concerning 
the  character,  works,  and  government,  of  God  ;  the  character, 
mission,  and  mediation,  of  the  Redeemer ;  the  character,  and 
offices,  of  the  Holy  Spirit ;  the  ruin  and  recovery  of  man,  the 
renovation  of  his  soul,  the  justification  and  adoption  of  his  per- 
son, and  the  purification  of  his  life  ;  concerning  the  dangers  and 
duties,  the  hopes,  comforts,  and  joys,  of  the  Christian ;  his  ac- 
cess to  God  by  prayer  for  all  blessings ;  and  the  communion 
with  him,  which  it  is  so  much  the  duty  and  the  privilege  of  the 
Christian  to  maintain.  All  these  doctrines  are  at  once  instruc- 
tive, endearing,  and  persuasive ;  and  have  proved  the  means  of 
salvation  to  many  a  sinner.  To  these  must  be  added  a  long  train 
of  precepts  and  ordinances,  naturally  conspiring  to  promote, 
and  actually  promoting,  the  same  important  end.  All  these  are 
advantages,  of  pre-eminent  consequence  towards  the  accomplish- 
ment of  this  great  purpose,  which  are  pecuhar  to  the  Scriptures  ; 
and  could  not  be  challenged  by  a  person,  risen  from  the  dead. 

4thly.  All  these  things  come  directly  from  God  himself,  and 
are  invested  with  his  authority. 


1(54  UNBELIEVERS  WOULD  NOT  BE  PERSUADED,       [SER.  VIL 

It  will  not  be  believed,  that  a  person,  risen  from  the  dead, 
would,  in  any  sense  be  an  object,  equally  interesting  with  our 
Maker.  Every  thing,  which  is  said  in  the  Scriptures,  is  either 
expressly,  or  imphcitly,  prefaced  with  "  Thus  saith  Jehovah." 
God,  the  Maker,  and  Disposer,  of  all  beings  ;  the  Giver  of  life 
and  death  ;  the  Ruler  of  Heaven,  Earth,  and  Hell ;  the  Judge, 
and  Rewarder,  of  the  good  and  the  evil ;  has  spoken  to  us  every 
thing  which  is  contained  in  the  Scriptures.  The  Son  of  God, 
the  Maker  of  men,  himself  the  Judge  and  the  Rewarder,  actual- 
ly spoke  in  person  a  great  part  of  the  doctrines  and  precepts 
contained  in  the  Scriptures.  All  the  instructions  of  this  wonder- 
ful person  were  fraught  with  supreme  wisdom  and  goodness ; 
were  delivered  with  unrivalled  meekness  and  gentleness,  with  un- 
limited tenderness  and  condescension  ;  and  were  enforced  by  an 
example,  of  transcendent  beauty  and  glory.  Surely,  if  the  char- 
acter of  the  teacher,  the  spirit  displayed  in  his  instructions,  and 
the  manner  in  which  they  were  delivered,  could  persuade  ;  per- 
suasion would  here  be  irresistible. 

5thly.  The  Scriptures  were  attested  by  miracles,  very  numer- 
ous., and  certainly  not  less  solemn,  and  impressive  than  the  resur- 
rection of  a  man  from  the  dead. 

The  Scriptures  are  sustained  by  a  mass  of  evidence,  wonder- 
fully various,  complicated,  and  affecting.  A  great  multitude  of 
its  Doctrines  and  precepts,  and  all,  which  we  are  able  to  exam- 
ine, are  seen  to  he  true  in  their  own  nature :  and  these  lend  a 
powerful  support  to  the  truth  of  those,  which  lie  beyond  our 
reach.  History  strongly  sustains  the  whole.  Another  stable 
column  is  furnished  to  this  great  building  by  prophecy.  It  is  also 
immoveably  cemented,  and  strengthened,  by  the  Harmony  of 
its  innumerable  parts.  Its  superlative  grandeur  and  sublimity 
compel  us  to  refer  it  to  a  divine  Architect.  To  the  same  refer- 
ence we  are  still  further  directed  by  the  purity  of  its  materials. 
The  portrait  of  the  Saviour,  and  even  those  of  his  Apostles,  and 
prophets,  which  adorn  the  walls  of  this  magnificent  temple,  were 
also  plaiiily  drawn  by  a  divine  pencil,  dipped  in  the  colours  of 
Heaven. 


SER.  VII.]  THOUGH  ONE  ROSE  FROM  THE  DEAD.  105 

To  all  these,  and  many  other,  proofs  of  the  divine  origin  of 
the  Scriptures,  Miracles  add  their  peculiar  strength.  These  as 
you  know  are  almost  endless  in  their  multitude,  and  in  their  na- 
ture of  supreme  force  and  solemnity.  Such  are  the  Deluge ; 
the  confusion  of  Languages  ;  the  destruction  of  Sodoni, ;  and 
the  wonders  of  Egypt,  the  Wilderness,  and  Canaan.  Such,  al- 
so, in  an  eminent  degree  were  the  Miracles  wrought  by  Christ, 
and  his  Apostles. 

Of  this  list  not  a  small  number  were  more  solemn  and  more 
affecting,  than  the  resurrection  of  a  man  from  the  dead.  Such 
was  the  giving  of  the  law  from  Mount  Sinai  ^  the  appearance  of 
the  Angels  to  the  Shepherds  of  Bethlehem  ;  the  descent  of  the 
Spirit,  and  the  voice  of  God,  at  the  baptism  of  our  Saviour  ;  and 
the  awful  events,  which  attended  his  crucifixion.  Not  a  small 
number  also  were  re{)ctitions  of  the  very  miracle  in  question. 
Such,  particularly,  was  the  resurrection  of  the  children  of  the 
widow  of  Zarephath  and  the  Shunamite,  of  the  daughter  of  Jai- 
rus,  of  the  son  of  the  widow  of  Nain,  of  Lazurus,  and  of  Ta- 
hitha.  Such  in  a  still  more  affecting  manner  was  the  resurrec- 
tion of  the  numerous  saints,  whose  bodies  ascended  from  the 
grave,  to  glorify  him  who  is  the  Resurrection  and  the  Life. 
Such  finally,  with  a  superlative  solemnity  and  force,  was  the  res- 
urrection of  Christ ;  attended  by  circumstances,  awful  and  sub- 
lime without  a  parallel. 

All  these  miracles,  it  is  to  be  remembered,  were  events,  ac- 
companied with  the  highest  evidence  ;  were  acknowledged  with- 
out a  question  by  those,  who  were  witnesses  of  them  ;  and  have 
been  evinced  to  be  true,  beyond  every  reasonable  doubt,  to  the 
minds  of  those  who  have  lived  in  succeeding  ages  ;  particularly 
of  the  great  body  of  the  wise  and  good,  since  the  commence- 
ment of  the  Christian  era. 

Such,  summarily,  is  the  evidence  of  Divine  Truth,  furnished  by 
the  Scriptures  :  and  such  are  their  advantages  for  convincing 
and  persuading  the  mind.  We  are  now  prepared  for  a  fair  ex- 
amination of  the  doctrine,  declared  in  the  text.    I  shall,  therefore, 

III.  Attempt  to  show,  that  the  doctrine  is  true. 


106  UNBELIEVERS  WOULD  NOT  BE  PERSUADED,       [SER.  VIL 

On  this  subject  I  observe. 

1st.  That  we  ourselves  do  7iot,  ordinarily^  dispute  the  truth  of 
the  Scriptural  declarations^  nor  the  sufficiency  of  the  evidence  by 
ivhich  they  are  supported  /  and  yet  are  in  very  few  instances  per- 
suaded to  repent. 

Neither  part  of  this  assertion  will  be  questioned.  The  num- 
ber of  Infidels,  here,  is  certainly  very  small.  I  am  not  warranted 
to  say,  that  there  is  one.  Comparatively,  it  is  small  throughout 
this  part  of  our  country  :  yet  how  few  in  comparison  are  the  pen- 
itents ?  Of  course,  our  belief  of  divine  truth  has  little  influence 
on  our  hearts. 

2dly.  Those,  who  were  witnesses  of  these  very  miracles,  gen- 
erally did  not  repent.         , 

The  Jews,  who  saw  the  miracles  of  Christ,  retained  still  their 
hardness  of  heart ;  and,  although  they  were  so  much  influenced 
by  them,  as  to  be  wilhng  to  make  him  a  King,  they  still  preserved 
all  their  sinfulness  of  character ;  and,  a  short  time  after,  nailed 
him  to  the  cross.  Even  those  who  saw  Lazarus  come  out  of  his 
grave,  in  many  instances  did  not  believe  on  him,  but  went  away, 
and  told  the  story  to  the  Pharisees.  The  Pharisees,  although  in 
the  Sanhedrim  they  openly  admitted  the  reality  of  Lazarus''  res- 
urrection and  of  many  other  miracles,  wrought  by  Christ,  yet, 
instead  of  being  persuaded,  were  only  roused  to  more  violent  ha- 
tred against  him  ;  and  immediately  took  counsel,  how  they  might 
put  him  to  death. 

We,  perhaps,  may  be  ready  to  believe,  and  not  improbably 
may  actually  believe,  that  our  own  hearts  may  be  less  hard,  and 
our  eyes  less  blind.  In  a  qualified  sense  this  may  be  true.  We 
may  not  be,  to  the  full  extent,  Scribes  and  Pharisees.  Our  ob- 
stinacy may,  perhaps,  not  rise  so  high,  as  that  of  many  other 
Jews,  who  lived  at  the  time  of  our  Saviour.  Yet  it  is  hardly 
probable,  that  we  possess  more  candour  and  moderation,  or  a 
disposition  more  easily  persuaded  than  many  among  the  numer- 
ous thousands,  who  saw  the  miracles  of  Christ  and  believed  him 
to  be  the  Messiah.  These,  nevertheless,  did  not  yield  their 
hearts  to  him  ;  receive  him  as  their  Saviour ;  nor  possess  a  broken, 
and  contrite  spirit. 


SER.  VII.]  THOUGH  ONE  ROSE  FROM  THE  DEAD.  10, 

The  cities  of  Capernaum^  Chorazin^  and  Bethsaida,  often 
heard  the  Saviour  preach  ;  and  saw  in  great  numbers  his  migh- 
ty works  wrought  before  their  eyes.  These  cities  contained 
a  multitude  of  youths,  and  a  multitude  of  women ;  the  most 
hopeful  objects  of  preaching  ;  and,  if  we  may  judge  from  facts, 
the  most  susceptible  of  repentance.  Yet  we  are  taught,  that 
few,  even  of  these,  repented.  Our  Saviour,  after  all  his  in- 
structions and  miracles,  was  compelled  to  exclaim,  "  Woe  unto 
thee,  Capernaum  !  Woe  unto  thee,  Chorazin  !  Woe  unto  thee, 
Bethsaida  !"  and  to  declare,  that  it  would  "  be  more  tolerable  for 
Tyre  and  Sidon,  and  even  for  Sodom  and  Gomorrah,  in  the  day 
of  Judgment,"  than  for  those  cities. 

Few  of  us  can  pretend  to  more  seriousness,  a  purer  morality, 
or  greater  sweetness  of  disposition,  than  the  young  Ruler ^  who 
came  to  Christ,  to  know  what  he  should  do  to  gain  eternal  life. 
Yet  even  he,  notwithstanding  he  believed  Christ  to  have  the 
words  of  eternal  life,  could  not  be  persuaded  to  obey  his  voice  ; 
although  Heaven  itself  would  have  been  his  certain  reward. 

Let  us  not  flatter  ourselves,  that  we  have  not  the  same  com- 
mon character,  and  that  we  are  not  by  nature  children  of  diso- 
bedience, even  as  they.  The  differences  between  them  and  us 
are  merely  circumstantial  :  and  even  these  are  not  always  in  our 
favour.  We  as  readily,  perhaps,  and  as  entirely,  acknowledge 
the  reality  of  Christ's  resurrection.  Yet  how  little  are  we  inter- 
ested by  this  most  stupendous  of  all  miracles  ?  How  plainly  is 
the  story  of  it,  when  recited  either  in  the  word  of  God,  or  in  the 
desk,  an  idle  tale  to  most  of  those  who  hear  me  ;  as  it  was  at 
first  to  the  disciples,  when  told  by  their  female  companions  to 
whom  he  had  re-appeared. 

3dly.  Among  all  the  persons  with  whom,  while  they  were  anx- 
iously solicitous  about  their  salvation,  I  have  had  opportunity  to 
converse,  I  do  not  remember  even  one  who  ever  mentioned  his  own 
indisposition  to  repent,  as  in  any  degree  derived  from  the  want  of 
evidence  to  support  the  truth  of  the  Scriptures. 

The  number  of  these  has  been  so  great,  that  if  this  were  a 
common,  or  even  a  frequent,  case,  some  one,  and  probably  ma- 


108  UNBELIEVERS  WOULD  NOT  BE  PERSUADED,       [SER.  VII 

ny  more,  must  have  been  found  among  them,  who  had  been 
embarrassed  by  this  difficulty.  At  the  same  time,  if  the  case 
had  really  occurred,  it  would  be  hardly  possible,  that  it  should 
not  have  been  mentioned.  Conversation  of  this  nature  is  ordi- 
narily in  a  pre-eminent  degree  open,  undisguised,  and  the  means 
of  pouring  forth  all  the  heart.  It  is  peculiarly  employed,  also, 
about  the  past  and  present  state  of  the  mind  ;  its  views,  and  af- 
fections ;  its  obstructions  in  the  way  to  faith,  repentance,  and 
holiness  ;  its  errors  ;  its  sins  ;  and  its  perplexities.  How  ob- 
viously would  such  a  fact  find  a  place  in  conversation  of  such  a 
nature.  Yet,  as  has  been  already  observed,  no  such  instance  is 
within  my  remembrance.  It  may  therefore  be  concluded  with- 
out hesitation,  that  very  few,  if  any,  such  instances  can  be  found. 

With  these  things  in  view,  we  are,  I  think  compelled  to  admit 
the  doctrine. 

I  will  now  conclude  the  discourse  with  a  few 

REMARKS. 

1st.  It  is  manifest  from  these  considerations,  that  (he  reason, 
why  mankind,  do  not  embrace  the  Gospel,  is  not  the  ivant  of 
Evidence. 

No  evidence  is  more  conclusive  than  that,  which  is  furnished 
by  miracles.  Every  man,  who  does  not  force  himself,  into  a 
state  of  doubt,  believes,  and  knows,  that  a  miracle  is  the  work  of 
God  only.  When  performed  to  prove  a  declaration,  it  is  with 
equal  certainty  known  to  be  a  testimony  from  God  to  the  truth 
of  that  declaration.  The  declaration  itself  is,  therefore,  true  : 
and  is  seen  to  be  true  by  means  of  evidence,  which  cannot  be 
questioned. 

At  the  same  time,  a  miracle  is  evidence  of  the  most  impres- 
sive kind.  As  it  is  a  fact,  it  has  that  peculiar  force  and  vividness, 
which  always  attends  the  impressions  of  images  made  by  ob- 
jects upon  our  senses.  A  miracle  is  always  a  fact,  also,  of  im- 
portance and  solemnity.  Beyond  this,  it  is  a  singular,  or  at 
least  a  very  extraordinary  fact.     It  is  therefore  accompanied  by 


SER.  VII.]  THOUGH  ONE  ROSE  FROM  THE  DEAD.  109 

all  the  force,  derived  from  both  these  considerations.  Finally, 
a  miracle  is  deeply  affecting  to  all  men  ;  because,  as  has  been  ob- 
served, it  is  a  testimony  from  God  to  the  truth  of  a  doctrine,  or 
to  the  rectitude  and  obligation  of  a  precept.  Every  man  knows, 
that  God  will  not  give  his  testimony  to  a  doctrine  or  precept  of 
little  moment,  however  just  and  true  ;  much  less  to  one  which  is 
false.  This  testimony  was  never  given  ;  it  cannot  with  decency 
be  supposed  ever  to  be  given  ;  to  a  doctrine  or  precept,  which  is 
not  of  high  importance,  and  deeply  interesting  to  the  government 
of  God,  and  the  welfare  of  mankind.  At  the  thought,  and  much 
more  at  the  sight,  of  such  a  testimony,  therefore,  the  mind  is 
awakened,  and  solemnized,  not  only  into  the  deepest  attention, 
but  the  most  profound  awe. 

All  these  advantages  to  produce  conviction  are  eminently  at- 
tributable to  the  miracle  involved  in  a  resurrection  from  the  dead. 
The  return  of  a  departed  man  from  the  invisible  world  to  those, 
with  whom  he  had  heretofore  lived  and  conversed,  is,  and  ever 
has  been,  one  of  the  most  solemn  objects  of  human  contem- 
plation. The  appearance  of  departed  spirits  has  in  every  age, 
and  in  every  nation,  awakened,  in  spite  of  improbability,  con- 
tempt, and  ridicule,  vivid  and  alarming  apprehensions  in  the 
great  body  of  our  race.  Not  only  has  it  been  felt  by  those,  who 
believed  it  as  a  fact,  but  by  those  also,  who  have  considered  it  as 
a  mere  dream  of  imagination.  A  secret  shuddering,  an  involun- 
tary chill,  has  regularly  attended  the  very  thought  of  such  a 
scene,  when  fairly  brought  home  to  the  mind.  What,  then, 
would  be  the  feelings,  were  such  a  man  actually  to  re- appear  ; 
to  converse,  to  live,  for  a  destined  season  with  his  former  acquaint- 
ance ?  What  emotions  would  spring  up  in  the  soul,  while  he 
unfolded  his  own  experimental  knowledge  of  the  invisible  world; 
the  joys  of  heaven  ;  or  the  sufferings  of  perdition  ?  Who  would 
not  run  to  see  this  wonderful  stranger?  Who  woul  i  not  eagerly 
hsten  to  his  recitals  ?  Who  would  not  awake,  and  tremble,  and 
shudder,  at  his  warnings  and  exhortations  ? 

But  the  text  declares,  that  even  the  appearance  and  testimony, 
of  such  a  person  would  not  persuade  us  to  believe,  and  repent : 

Vol.  II.  15. 


no    •       UNBELIEVERS  WOULD  NOT  BE  PERSUADED,       [SER.  VIL 

and  the  illustrations,  furnished  in  this  discourse,  have,  if  I  mis- 
take not,  proved  the  declaration  to  be  true.  Why  should  we  not 
repent?  Certainly  not  because  the  evidence  accompanying  his 
testimony  would  be  insufficient  to  command  conviction.  No  ev- 
idence could  be  more  complete.  Most  clearly  the  difficulty  lies 
not  in  the  understanding-  but  in  the  heart.  The  disposition  is 
opposed  to  the  reception  of  divine  truth  ;  and  overcomes  all  the 
dictates  of  the  understandmff.  Here  lies  the  great  secret.  The 
heart  is  opposed  to  God,  to  his  truth,  to  conviction,  to  obedi- 
ence. It  is  easy  to  prove  to  any  man,  who  will  listen  with  can- 
dour, the  truth  of  the  Scriptures ;  the  desirableness  of  repent- 
ance, faith,  and  obedience  to  God  ;  the  importance  of  renoun- 
cing sin,  and  returning  to  our  duty.  But  he  will  not,  therefore, 
believe,  nor  repent,  nor  obey.  Convinced  as  he  may  be,  he  will 
still  continue  to  sin.  It  is  easy  to  shew  ;  indeed,  it  does  not 
need  to  be  shev/n  ;  that  it  is  wise  to  secure  Heaven,  amd  escape 
from  Hell.  But  he,  to  whom  this  is  shewn,  will  not  therefore 
seek  Heaven,  nor  attempt  to  escape  from  Hell. 

This  certainly  is  a  most  unhappy  trait  in  the  human  character. 
It  is  conduct,  which  is  contrary  to  our  boasted  reason,  our  pro- 
fessed dignity  of  nature  ;  and  is  plainly  inexcusable  to  our  con- 
sciences, as  well  as  to  God.  What  can  be  said  in  behalf  of  him, 
who  knows  his  duty,  and  refuses  to  do  it  ?  What  can  he  say  for 
himself?  What  will  he  say,  when  he  comes  before  the  bar  of 
his  Maker  ?  How  plainly  must  he  be  overwhelmed  by  a  convic- 
tion of  his  guilt,  which  then  he  will  be  unable  to  force  away. 

But  that,  of  which  we  shall  then  be  convinced,  it  cannot  but 
be  wise  to  feel  at  the  present  time.  If  we  would  either  please 
God,  or  save  our  own  souls  ;  we  ought  now  to  see,  and  acknowl- 
edge with  the  heart,  the  obstinacy  which  we  cherish  against  the 
truth  and  will  of  God.  We  ought  now  to  see  how  foolishly,  as 
well  as  how  sinfully,  we  arc  resisting  our  salvation.  We  have 
Moses  and  the  prophets,  and  Christ  and  the  Apostles.  The 
brethren  of  the  Rich  man  had  the  former  only.  If  they  resisted 
these,  their  case  was  hopeless  ;  and  their  souls  were  undone. 
What,  then,  if  we  resist  both,  will  be  our  case  ? 


SER.  VII.]  THOUGH  ONE  ROSE  FROM  THE  DEAD.  HJ 

2dly.  From  these  observations  it  is  clear,  that  no  evidence  will 
persuade  a  sinful  heart. 

The  Devils,  we  are  told,  believe,  and  tremble.  The  Rich  man, 
in  the  parable,  saw  with  absolute  certainty,  and  saw  in  his  own 
experience  too,  that  the  impenitent  are  miserable  beyond  the 
grave.  Yet  the  devils  do  not  repent.  The  Rich  man  did  not 
repent.  He  hoped,  that  his  brethren  would  repent,  if  Lazarus 
should  be  permitted  to  testify  to  them  the  sufferings  which  he 
enriured.  But  he  exhibits  not  a  single  hope  of  his  own  repent- 
ance, although  he  was  now  experiencing  the  very  woes  con- 
cerning which  the  testimony  of  Lazarus  was  to  be  given. 

In  the  same  manner  multitudes  of  mankind  in  Christian  coun- 
tries, and  among  them  not  a  small  number  in  this  house,  who 
acknowledge  the  Scriptures  to  be  the  word  of  God,  and  believe, 
without  a  doubt,  that  all  the  solemn  things,  which  they  contain, 
are  true,  are  yet  not  persuaded. 

There  is  no  instance,  recorded  in  the  history  of  man,  in  which 
the  heart  has  yielded  itself  to  the  mere  influence  of  truth  ;  even 
of  the  truth  of  God  ;  and  become  converted,  merely  because  it 
was  convinced.  Sin  in  its  very  nature  appears  to  be  immoveable 
by  any  effort  of  the  sinner.  If  I  am  asked,  whether  he  is  not 
possessed  of  physical  power  to  effect  this  removal  ;  I  answer, 
"  yes :  but  he  will  never  exert  it  in  such  a  manner,  as  to  accom- 
plish the  end."  Man,  in  my  view,  has  all  the  physical  power, 
before,  that  he  has  at,  or  after,  his  regeneration.  The  only 
change,  wrought  in  him  at  that  time,  is  in  his  disposition  ;  and, 
to  accomplish  this  change,  something,  beside  the  mere  power  of 
truth  and  evidence,  is  indispensable.  The  grace  of  God,  alone, 
the  power  of  the  divine  Spirit,  is  the  only  cause,  from  which  this 
wonderful  effect  can  spring  ;  the  only  balm  for  the  leprosy  of 
the  heart. 

You  may,  perhaps,  ask  what,  then,  is  the  use  of  divine  Truth  ? 
What  is  its  efficacy  ?  What  is  the  value  of  the  means  of  grace  ? 
And  why  do  I  urge  you  so  earnestly  to  use  them  ;  and  to  use 
them  with  all  diligence,  and  anxiety  ;  for  the  purpose  of  attaining 
salvation  ?  To  these  reasonable  questions  my  answer  is  ready. 


112  UNBELIEVERS  WOULD  NOT  BE  PERSUADED,       [SER.  VIL 

This  is  the  way,  in  which  God  has  thought  proper  to  communi- 
cate this  blessing ;  and  unquestionably  the  way,  which  is  most 
wise  and  proper  in  itself.  He  could  easily  accomplish  the  whole 
work  of  your  regeneration  without  even  a  remote  reference  to 
any  means  whatever.  But  he  has  determined  otherwise  :  and 
such  is  the  importance  of  the  Scriptures  to  this  mighty  concern, 
that  they  are  declared,  expressly,  to  be  able  to  make  us  wise  unto 
salvation.  As  he  has  ordered  his  providence  ;  they  are  abso- 
lutely necessary  to  teach  you  his  character  and  pleasure  ;  your 
own  ruin,  and  recovery  ;  the  dangers  to  which  you  are  exposed, 
and  the  way  to  escape  them  ;  the  blessings  which  you  may  ac- 
quire, and  the  means  by  which  they  may  be  obtained.  Scarcely 
less  necessary  are  they  to  bring  you  to  that  soberness  of  mind, 
which  is  indispensable  to  thinking  usefully  on  any  subjects  ;  es- 
pecially on  those,  which  are  involved  in  Religion ;  and  to  that 
solemn  concern  for  your  immortal  interests,  without  which  you 
will  not  even  wish  to  be  saved.  The  means  of  grace  universally 
form,  when  employed  in  earnest,  a  preparation  of  the  man,  both 
with  respect  to  the  understanding  and  the  affections,  for  the 
proper  commencement  of  the  agency  of  the  Holy  Spirit  in  re- 
newing his  heart.  This  is  not  a  preparation  of  mej-it  but  o^  fit- 
ness. It  involves  no  desert  of  this  blessing.  It  infers  no  obliga- 
tion on  God  to  communicate  it.  But  it  is  the  way,  which  God 
in  his  wisdom  and  mercy  has  been  pleased  to  select ;  and  which 
therefore  he  has  been  pleased  to  bless.  It  would  be  easy  to 
shew,  that  it  is  both  wise  and  good  :  but  this  the  time  will  not 
permit ;  and  on  the  present  occasion  it  is  unnecessary. 

Agreeably  to  these  observations,  all  persons,  who  are  finally 
regenerated,  date  the  commencement  of  seriousness  in  their 
minds,  of  their  conviction  of  sin,  and  therefore,  of  the  conver- 
sion which  followed  it ;  from  something,  which  is  contained  in 
the  Scriptures :  some  truth ;  some  precept ;  some  ordinance  ; 
some  threatening  ;  some  invitation  ;  some  promise.  Ask  as  ma- 
ny, as  you  please  ;  and  you  will  find,  that  one  dates  the  com- 
mencement of  this  work  in  his  soul  from  some  passage  of  Scrip- 
ture ;  another,  from  an  expression  in  a  prayer,  or  a  psalm  ;  and 


SER.  VII.]  THOUGH  ONE  ROSE  FROM  THE  DEAD.  1 1 3 

another,  from  an  affecting  sermon.  One  finds  it  in  religious  con- 
versation ;  another,  in  religious  example.  One  began  to  be  af- 
fected by  his  own  sickness,  or  his  recovery  ;  another,  by  his  ex- 
posure to  an  alarming  danger,  or  his  merciful  deliverance  ;  and 
another  still,  by  the  death  of  a  friend,  or  some  other  solemn  dis- 
pensation of  Providence.  You  will  never  hear  this  great  event 
spoken  of,  as  commencing  without  something,  by  which  it  was 
begun  :  and  that  something  is  always  divine  truth,  either  brought 
to  the  mind  simple  and  alone,  or  accompanied  with  circumstan- 
ces, by  which  it  was  powerfully  impressed.  And  let  it  be  remem- 
bered that  all  the  things,  which  I  have  here  mentioned,  are  only 
Scriptural  truth,  presented  in  various  forms,  or  accompanied  by 
different  means  of  impressing  it  powerfully  on  the  heart. 

But,  were  we  unable  to  explain  this  subject  at  all,  it  would  be 
sufficient  to  recur  to  the  mere  state  of  facts,  to  recommend  it 
in  the  strongest  manner  to  the  attention  of  mankind.  It  is  cer- 
tainly enough  for  us,  that  all,  who  are  saved,  are  saved  in  this 
manner. 

Flatter  not  yourselves,  then,  that  your  hearts  will  ever  be  chan- 
ged by  the  mere  force  of  evidence ;  nor  that  you  can  ever  be  re- 
newed, but  by  the  grace  of  God,  and  the  agency  of  his  Spirit ; 
nor  that  you  have  a  rational  hope  of  salvation,  without  an  earnest, 
anxious,  use  of  the  means  of  grace  ;  nor  that  in  such  an  use  of 
these  means  you  can  merit  salvation ;  nor  that  God  is  under  any 
obligation  to  save  you  ;  nor  that  you  are  in  any  sense  safe,  until 
you  shall  have  been  created  anew  by  the  power  of  the  divine 
Spirit.  Leave  these  dreams  to  those,  who  are  willing  to  spend 
life  in  dreaming.  But  do  you  in  the  mean  time  rejoice,  that  there 
is  a  divine  Spirit  to  renew  you ;  and  that  there  are  means,  by 
which  multitudes  have  been  conducted  to  this  renovation.  Lay 
hold  on  them  with  all  your  hearts  :  and,  while  you  follow  the  glo- 
rious company,  who  in  the  use  of  them  have  been  divinely  blessed, 
may  you  find  the  same  blessing  in  this  world,  and  the  innumer- 
able and  immortal,  blessings*  which  flow  from  it  in  the  world  to 
come  f 


SERMON  VIII. 

ON  SLOTH. 

Proverbs  xxiv.  30 — 32. 

1  went  by  the  field  of  the  slothful^  and  by  the  vineyard  of  the 
man  void  of  understanding : 

And  lo,  it  was  all  grown  over  with  thorns  !  and  nettles  had  cov- 
ered the  face  thereof:  and  the  stone-wall  thereof  ivas  broken  down. 

Then  I  saw,  and  considered  it  well.  Hooked  upon  it  j  and  re- 
ceived instruction. 

No  writer  in  the  Scriptures  has  given  us  so  many  lessons  on  the 
subject  of  sloth^  as  Solomon ;  and  on  no  subject  has  he  exhibited 
more  pungent  phraseology,  or  striking  imagery.  There  is  a  pith- 
iness, a  vigour  of  thought,  and  a  strength  of  expression,  in  the 
compositions  of  this  great  man,  which  are  singular ;  and  which 
are  all  exhibited  in  the  most  vivid  manner  in  his  observations 
concerning  sloth.  This  fact  is  a  forcible  proof  of  his  superiour 
wisdom  ;  and  might  be  fairly  expected  from  the  distinguished  de- 
gree, in  which  he  possessed  this  attribute. 

The  text  is  a  beautiful  specimen  of  this  nature.  "  I  went  by 
the  field  of  the  slothful,  and  by  the  vineyard  of  the  man,  void  of 
understanding :  And  lo,  it  was  all  grown  over  with  thorns  !  and 
nettles  covered  the  face  thereof:  and  the  stone- wall  thereof  was 
broken  down." 

Fields  and  vineyards,  where  vineyards  exist,  have  ever  been  the 
,chief  objects  of  human  cultivation.  Both  are  destined  not  only 
to  supply  important  necessaries  of  life,  but  to  furnish  man  with 
those  supplies  of  food,  and  drink,  and  with  many  of  those  objects 
of  mental  taste,  which  have  always  been  regarded  by  mankind  as 
eminently  delightful.     In  truth,   these,  together  with  gardens, 


SER.  VIII.]  ON  SLOTH.  1 15 

have  been  in  all  ages  primary  objects  of  secular  attention  to  the 
great  body  of  tiie  human  race,  in  every  country  where  the  soil 
and  climate  would  admit  an  employment  of  this  nature.  A  gar- 
den was  assigned  to  our  first  parents,  as  the  place  of  their  abode 
in  a  state  of  innocence.  Adam  was  the  first  husbandman  ;  and 
Eden  was  the  first  scene  of  agriculture.  When,  therefore,  fields 
and  vineyards  are  neglected  by  the  proprietor ;  we  may  easily 
believe,  that  all  other  objects  of  his  industry  will  be  forgotten : 
for  here  very  obviously  lies  his  chief  secular  interest ;  and  here 
might  plainly  and  easily  be  found  his  first  pleasure. 

But  the  field  and  the  vineyard  were  not  merely  neglected. 
They  were  forgotten  ;  and  had  long  been  forgotten.  Tliey  were 
all  grown  over  with  thorns ;  and  nettles  had  covered  their  surface : 
the  stone-wall  with  which  the  vineyard  had  been  formerly  enclos- 
ed by  a  more  industrious  hand,  was  also  broken  down  :  probably, 
because  the  proprietor  was  too  lazy  to  put  it  up  himself,  or  even 
to  employ  others  for  this  purpose. 

This  scene  struck  the  eye  of  the  wisest  of  men  with  very  great 
force ;  as  he  has  taught  us  by  the  emphatica!  language  in  which 
he  has  expressed  his  feelings.  "  Then  I  saw,  and  considered  it 
well.  I  looked  upon  it ;  and  received  instruction."  In  this  state 
of  deep  contemplation,  this  solemn  pondering  on  the  miserable 
case  before  him,  the  emotions  of  Solomon  were  e.vcited  to  such  a 
pitch,  that,  turning  his  thoughts  to  the  wretched  proprietor,  he 
entered,  in  imagination,  the  house  where  the  man  lived  ;  and 
there  beheld  him  stretched  upon  his  bed,  at  that  very  time  of 
day,  when  himself  was  examining  so  attentively  the  deplorable 
consequences  of  his  sloth.  Here,  as  he  fancied,  he  heard  the 
sottish  being  exclaim,  "  Yet  a  little  sleep  ;  a  little  slumber ;  a  lit- 
tle folding  of  the  hands  to  sleep."  Roused  by  this  effusion  ;  the 
most  striking,  which  was  ever  uttered  by  a  mind  torpid  with  indo- 
lence ;  Solomon  exclaimed  by  way  of  response,  "  So  shall  thy 
poverty  come,  as  one  that  travelleth  ;  and  thy  want,  as  an  armed 
man."  From  this  humiliating  view  of  the  conduct  and  conse- 
quences of  sloth  we  cannot  fail  to  learn  some  useful  lessons,  un- 
less the  fault  should  be  our  own.  Among  these  the  following  ob- 
servations well  merit  the  attention  of  this  assembly. 


116  ON  SLOTH.  [HER.  VIII. 

1 .  A  slothful  man  is  useless  to  hi  in  self. 

The  first  utility  of  man  to  himself,  the  most  natural,  and  that, 
to  which  we  are  led  by  the  strongest  and  most  universal  propen- 
sity of  our  nature,  is  the  acquisition  of  our  subsistence.  To  this 
we  are  called  by  the  most  absolute  necessity ;  our  exposure  to 
hunger,  thirst,  and  nakedness,  to  all  the  suflerings  of  beggary, 
and  the  still  keener  sufferings  of  contempt.  On  the  other  hand, 
comfort,  reputation,  usefulness,  duty,  and  even  ambition  and  ava- 
rice, powerfully  urge  us  to  industry.  These  loud  calls  are  heard, 
accordingly,  by  almost  all  men.  Even  those,  who  are  born  in 
poverty,  feel  their  influence  in  such  a  degree,  that  in  ordinary  cir- 
cumstances they  struggle  vigorously  for  a  comfortable  support ; 
and  usually  with  success.  The  diligent  hand  even  of  these  per- 
sons makes  them  in  many  instances  rich  ;  and  in  most  ensures  to 
them  a  comfortable  subsistence.  But  the  man  in  the  text  was 
plainly  born  the  heir  of  a  patrimonial  estate.  He  had  a  field  and 
a  vineyard,  and  not  improbably  many  fields  ;  but  neither  produ- 
ced any  thing  beside  nettles  and  thorns.  Had  any  thing  better 
grown  in  either  ;  it  would  have  been  destroyed  by  cattle  :  for  the 
enclosure,  by  which  it  should  have  been  defended,  was  broken 
down.  The  proprietor,  in  the  mean  time,  was  at  home,  and  not 
in  his  field  ;  stretched  on  his  bed  in  the  day-time,  and  not  at  his 
plough,  or  his  pruning-hook.  Instead  of  cultivating  corn  and 
grapes,  his  proper  employment ;  instead  of  providing  food  for 
himself,  and  his  household  ;  he  was  crying  out  beneath  the  noon- 
day sun,  with  the  feelings  of  a  mere  animal,  "  Yet  a  Uttle  sleep  ; 
a  Httle  slumber ;  a  little  folding  of  the  hands  to  sleep." 

A  more  useless  being  than  this,  even  to  himself,  cannot  be  im- 
agined by  the  human  mind.  In  defiance  of  all  the  powerful 
motives,  which  I  have  mentioned,  he  was  contented  to  be  hun- 
gry and  naked,  despised  and  forgotten,  if  he  might  only  be  per- 
mitted to  dissolve  in  sloth  and  lose  himself  in  sleep. 

This  is  an  exact  as   well  a  strong  picture  of  every  lazy  man. 

Every  such  man  is  of  the  same  useless  character :  useless  I  mean 

to  himself     Every  one  has  not  indeed  fields  and  vineyards,  to 

cultivate  or  neglect :  but  all  manage  whatever  possessions  they 

,haYe  in  a  similar  manner. 


SER.  VIII.]  ON  SLOTSt.  117 

This  however  is  not  the  worst  of  the  case.  He  is  not  merely 
useless  to  himself;  but  is  his  own  enemy.  The  whole  character 
of  an  enemy  is  exhibited  in  destroying  or  preventing  the  happi- 
ness of  him,  whom  he  hates.  The  slothful  man  is  his  own  ene^ 
my,  because  he  both  destroys  and  prevents  his  own  happiness. 
This  truth,  if  it  needs  proof,  will  be  abundantly  evident  from  a 
few  observations. 

He  prevents  his  own  happiness  by  wasting  his  property.  This 
effect  of  indolence  is  so  inseparably  connected  with  it,  and  so 
universally  seen  to  flow  from  it,  that  no  words  are  necessary  to 
establish  the  position  ui  the  most  incredulous  mind. 

The  same  evil  he  produces  also  by  wasting  his  time.  God 
thought  it  necessary,  and  gave  it  as  a  law  to  mankind,  that  they 
should  labour  six  days  every  week,  and  in  this  manner  do  ail  their 
work.  Experience  has  abundantly  shown  the  wisdom  and  the 
goodness  of  this  law.  But,  every  week,  the  slothful  man  spends 
six  days  in  idleness ;  and  does  not  labour  even  one.  All  these, 
therefore,  are  by  him  voluntarily  lost ;  and  all  the  blessings, 
which  would  spring  from  using  them  wisely,  and  diligently. 
Thus  the  desire  of  the  slothful  killeth  him  :  for  his  hands  re- 
fuse to  labour.  I  need  not  observe  that  he,  that  he  who  wastes 
six  days  in  the  week,  will  certainly  squander  the  seventh. 

Equally  does  he  waste  his  talents.  The  employment  of  our 
faculties  is  in  itself,  probably,  the  greatest  secular  pleasure  which 
we  enjoy.  Neither  health,  nor  property,  nor  reputation,  nor  all 
•f  them,  nor,  as  I  believe,  even  Religion  itself,  so  far  as  its  exis- 
tence is  possible  on  such  a  supposition,  will  make  men  happy  or 
keep  them  from  being  wretched,  without  the  employment  of 
their  faculties.  Accordingly,  all  the  miserable  beings  who  are 
without  useful  business  or  refuse  to  perform  it,  are  driven  for  the 
mere  purpose  of  killing  time  to  the  card-table,  the  dram-shop, 
the  horse-race,  the  corners  of  streets,  or  some  other  miserable 
haunt  of  those  who  do  nothing,  and  who  seek  here  to  while 
away  their  heavy  hours. 

But,  should  it  be  said,  that  the  slothful  man  thinks  himself  as 
happy  as  other  persons,  and  is  therefore  to  be  accounted  go ;  I  ask, 

Vol.  H.  "     le 


118  ON  SLOTH.  [SER.  VIII- 

"  What  is  this  happiness  ?"  The  answer  plainly  is,  "  that  of  an 
oyster,"  found  in  a  mere  exemption  from  insensibility. 

The  employment  of  our  faculties  produces  enjoyment  also^ 
in  a  rich  train  of  consequences.  Property,  character,  influence, 
consciousness  of  being  useful,  provision  for  the  wants  of  sick- 
ness and  old  age,  and  the  satisfaction  of  providing  for  the  com- 
fort and  usefulness  of  those  who  are  dependent  on  us  ;  all  fol- 
low in  a  regular  train  the  employment  of  our  faculties  in  the  bu- 
siness for  which  they  were  designed.  All  these  the  lazy  man  re- 
linquishes for  the  privilege  of  setting  in  his  chair,  lolling  on  hi? 
bed,  and  lounging  in  taverns. 

Nor  is  he  less  an  enemy  to  his  reputation.  Laziness  is  so 
contemptible  a  character,  and  sinks  a  man  down  so  near  to  the 
verge  of  nihility,  that  it  is  despised  by  every  eye,  and  reproach- 
ed by  every  tongue.  Contempt  snuffs  it  as  his  proper  prey  ;  and 
infamy  follows  it  unceasingly  with  her  hiss  and  her  sting.  But 
"  a  good  name  is  better  than  great  riches  ;  and  loving  favour  than 
silver  and  gold."  Disgrace  on  the  other  hand  is  probably  felt  by 
mankind  as  the  last  evil,  usually  suffered  in  the  present  world. 

Equally  is  he  an  enemy  to  his  usefulness.  To  be  useful  is  in 
every  sense  a  blessing,  of  high  moment.  The  most  melancholy 
lamentation  of  an  old  man  is,  "  I  am  good  for  nothing."  But 
the  slothful  is  voluntarily  good  for  nothing  throughout  life.  His 
usefulness  is  all  given  up  of  design :  and  he  will  not  suffer  him- 
self to  be  useful,  even  in  his  own  person,  and  by  his  own  faculties. 
Influence,  the  great  source  of  our  usefulnes,  where  others  are  to 
be  persuaded  and  engaged,  he  has  not,  and  cannot  have.  All 
influence  is  acquired  by  reputation  :  but  of  this  he  has  deprived 
himself.  His  wishes  therefore,  and  his  plans,  will  only  be  oppo- 
sed, and  despised,  by  others. 

Finally  he  is  an  enemy  to  his  soul.  "  Therefore,"  says  St. 
James.,  "  to  him  that  knoweth  to  do  good,  and  doeth  it  not,  to 
him  it  is  sin."  In  this  manner  the  whole  life  of  a  lazy  man  is 
passed.  Much  good,  which  he  perfectly  well  knows,  is  every 
day  left  by  him  undone.  Day  by  day,  therefore,  he  accumulates 
sins  from  morning  to  night.     How  vast,  then,  must  be  their  num- 


1SER.  Vm.j  ON  SLOTH.  119 

ber  ;  how  incomprehensible  their  amount !  It  is  hardly  necessary 
to  observe  that  these  sins  are  the  most  fatal  enemies  of  the  soul. 

2dly.  The  slothful  man  is  useless  to  Mankind. 

My  observations  on  this  subject  must  in  a  great  measure  be 
anticipated  by  my  audience.  He,  v^^ho  is  not  useful  to  himself, 
will  never  be  useful  to  others.  He,  who  is  a  nuisance  to  himself, 
will  be  a  nuisance  to  mankind.  The  lazy  man  must,  if  he  lives, 
be  indebted  to  the  labour  of  others  for  the  food  and  raiment,  the 
fuel  and  lodging,  on  which  he  lives.  Others  must  toil  for  every 
enjoyment,  which  he  partakes :  and  he  is  a  mere  load  upon  their 
shoulders.  At  the  same  time  he  is  a  nuisance  by  his  example,  and 
by  his  wickedness.  A  lazy  man  makes  others  lazy  ;  as  a  drunken 
man  makes  others  drunkards.  Around  him  gather,  of  course, 
those  who  are  like  him  ;  or  those  who  speedily  assume  the  same 
character.  Talkers,  drones,  incapable  of  managing  their  own 
business,  and  meddling  perpetually  with  that  of  others  ;  loungers 
in  shops,  and  market  places  ;  politicians,  perfectly  capable  of 
guiding  the  wheels  of  government :  each  wiser,  in  his  own  con- 
ceit, than  seven  men,  who  can  render  a  reason :  stains  upon  the 
character  of  man,  and  a  smoke  in  the  nostrils  of  Jehovah. 

On  each  of  these  poverty  shall  come,  with  the  speed  of  one  that 
travelleth  ;  and  want  as  an  armed  man.  His  end  in  this  world  is 
commonly  the  Alms-house  or  Bridewell,  the  jail  or  the  gibbet ; 
and  in  the  world  to  come  that  outer  darkness,  into  which  every 
unprofitable  servant  will  he  cast,  and  in  which  there  is  perpetual 
weeping,  and  gnashing  of  teeth. 

I  will  now  proceed,  my  young  friends,  to  apply  this  subject  to 
your  own  circumstances. 

The  general  nature  of  sloth  I  have  unfolded  to  you  succinctly; 
but  your  circumstances  differ  so  widely  from  those  of  most  oth- 
ers, that,  in  order  to  make  my  observations  of  any  material  use  to 
you,  it  will  be  desirable,  if  not  absolutely  necessary,  that  the  case 
should  be  directly  and  particularly  made  your  own.  This,  there- 
fore, I  will  now  attempt. 

Sloth  in  this  Seminary  of  learning  is  directed,  as  it  is  elsewhere, 
into  different  channels.  I  will  attempt  briefly  to  follow  it  in  some 
of  its  most  obvious  and  distinguished  courses. 


120  ON  SLOTH.  [SER.  VIII. 

A  number  of  those,  who  find  admission  into  these  walls,  in 
some  degree  varying  at  different  times,  have  an  original  disrelish 
to  study ^  and  a  riding  propensity  to  the  active  business  of  life. 
These  youths  take  up  their  books  originally  and  solely,  in  obedi- 
ence to  the  wishes  and  injunctions  of  their  parents,  and  in  oppo- 
sition to  the  strong  bent  of  their  own  nature.  Thos6"  parental 
wishes,  which  send  them  hither,  are  in  my  view  unwise  and  un- 
happy. Few,  very  few  of  the  children  who  possess  this  charac- 
ter, will  ever  become  scholars.  The  strength  of  natural  propen- 
sity in  this  case  almost  always  prevails.  The  intentions  of  the 
parents,  indeed,  are  in  the  highest  degree  commendable :  for  they 
evidently  design  to  dispose  of  their  children  in  the  manner  most 
beneficial  to  them.  Their  disrelish  to  study,  and  their  attachment 
to  active  life,  they  hope  by  persevering  opposition  to  overcome. 
But  they  almost  always  hope  in  vain  :  for  after  all  their  labours 
the  child  passes  through  the  successive  periods  of  his  education, 
with  no  more  of  learning  or  of  science,  than  that  which  adheres 
to  him,  merely  because  he  is  where  it  is ;  because  he  has  eyes 
and  ears,  and  is  compelled  by  irresistible  necessity  to  see  and  hear 
something  of  what  is  passing  before  these  senses. 

Those  of  you,  who  possess  this  character,  I  consider  as  the 
least  censurable  among  the  idle  members  of  this  institution.  In 
some  measure  you  are  certainly  to  be  pitied  ;  because  your  con- 
tinuance here  is  a  struggle  against  the  stiff  bent  of  nature ;  a 
violence  done  to  your  constitutional  inclinations.  Were  my  own 
advice  to  be  followed ;  every  such  person  would  speedily  take  a 
dismission,  if  his  parents'  consent  could  be  obtained  ;  betake  him- 
self to  business,  better  suited  to  his  inclinations  ;  and  no  longer 
struggle  in  vain  against  a  propensity  plainly  too  powerful  to  be 
overcome. 

But  let  me  remind  all  persons  of  this  character,  that  they  are 
not  merely  to  be  pitied,  but  are  also  to  be  severely  censured. 
Such  of  you,  as  have  been  sent  hither  in  these  circumstances, 
ought  ever  to  remember  that  you  were  sent  hither  by  your  par- 
ents ;  that  they  had  an  absolute  right  to  dispose  of  you  in  this 
manner,  that  you  are  bound  by  the  authority  of  G09  to  submit 


»£R.  VIIL]  ON  SLOTH.  121 

your  own  inclinations  to  their  pleasure ;  and  that  he  at  the  final 
day  will  require  this  at  your  hands.  You  are  bound  also  to  re- 
member, that  the  course  which  they  have  prescribed  for  you, 
though  unhappily  contrary  to  the  strong  bias  of  your  inclinations, 
is  in  itself  the  wisest  and  best  which  is  possible ;  and  that  the 
knowledge  which  they  intended  you  should  acquire,  will,  if  actu- 
ally acquired,  be  the  greatest  of  all  earthly  blessings,  which  you 
can  obtain.  By  the  command  of  God  you  are  bound  to  obey 
your  parents  in  all  things.  If  you  reverenced  your  Maker  ;  you 
would  certainly  obey  them  in  this :  for  they  are  here  eminently 
seeking  your  best  good,  and  labouring  most  benevolently  to  raise 
you  to  usefulness  and  honour.  Gratitude,  therefore,  adds  all  its 
strong  claims  to  filial  piety,  and  piety  to  God  ;  and  powerfully 
urges  you  to  overcome  with  a  manly  struggle  your  reluctance  to 
study.  You  may  lawfully  wish  that  your  destination  had  been 
diflferent.  But  nothing  can  vindicate  your  present  neglect  of 
your  duty. 

Another  class  of  idlers  in  this  Seminary  is  formed  of  tliose., 
who  in  their  dispositions  exactly  resemble  the  7niserable  being 
whom  Solomon  saw,  and  whom  he  has  made  the  subject  of  his  re- 
flections in  the  text.  These  are  naturally  lazy ;  just  as  others  of 
our  race  are  naturally  passionate.  The  indulgence  of  sloth,  so 
far  as  we  are  able  to  judge,  is  their  supreme  good  :  and  exertion 
of  every  kind,  the  evil  which  they  supremely  dread.  Address  to 
them  whatever  arguments  you  please,  for  the  purpose  of  rousing 
them  to  activity :  rehearse  to  them  the  commands  of  God:  repeat 
before  them  the  loud  calls  of  their  own  interest ;  of  property,  re- 
putation, influence,  and  usefulness,  ever  attendant  upon  vigorous 
efforts,  especially  those  for  the  attainment  of  valuable  knowl- 
edge ;  and  the  worthlessness,  insignificance,  disgrace,  and  beg- 
gary, which  follow  hard  on  the  heels  of  sloth  :  recall  to  their  view 
the  wounds  which  their  parents  will  receive  from  the  disappoint- 
ment of  all  their  hopes,  and  from  the  disgrace,  wretchedness,  and 
ruin,  of  their  children  :  point  to  them  their  companions,  honour- 
ably contending  in  the  race  of  learning,  worth  and  usefulness: 
the  only  answer  which  you  will  receive,  is,  "  Yet  a  little  sleep ; 
a  little  slumber ;  a  httle  folding  of  the  hands  to  .sleep." 


122  ON  SLOTH.  [SER.  Vlli. 

To  those  of  you,  who  sustain  this  deplorable  character,  if  such 
there  are,  arguments  can  be  addressed,  only  with  emotions  bor- 
dering on  despair.  What  can  be  expected  of  those  who  have  no 
ears  to  hear,  nor  hearts  to  understand  ;  whose  minds  are  diseas- 
ed and  torpid  ;  and  to  whom  the  considerations  of  time  and 
eternity  are  alike  presented  in  vain  ?  These  persons  do  not  walk, 
but  slide,  down  the  broad  and  crooked  road.  They  do  not  go, 
but  slumber,  onward  to  perdition.  Yet  I  will  try  once  more,  to 
discharge  my  own  duty  to  them ;  however  hopeless,  however  vain, 
may  be  the  attempt.  Remember  then  the  sentence,  which  God 
has  passed  upon  persons  who  sustain  this  miserable  character. 
"  If  any  will  not  work  neither  shall  he  eat,"  i.  e.  if  any  person 
will  not  do  some  useful  business,  allotted  to  him  by  Providence,  he 
shall  not  eat.  Whenever  he  receives  his  daily  food,  he  violates  the 
express  command  of  God.  Here  every  lazy  man  is  expressly  doom- 
ed by  his  Maker  to  starving,  and  death  ;  and  the  very  continu- 
ance of  his  life,  and  the  reception  of  the  food  by  which  it  is  sup- 
ported, are  downright  rebellion  against  his  Maker.  Of  what 
other  class  of  sinners  are  these  terrible  things  said  in  the  Scrip- 
tures ?  and  what  must  be  the  views,  what  the  detestation,  of 
Him,  by  whom  they  are  said  concerning  this  character  ? 

Remember  also,  that  you  are  daily  increasing  the  strength  of 
this  propensity.  Every  hour,  in  which  you  indulge  it,  it  becomes 
a  more  and  more  powerful  habit ;  and  chains  you  down  in  a 
more  and  more  hopeless  bondage.  Your  efforts  against  it,  your 
attempts  at  exertion,  already  so  feeble  and  fruitless,  will  soon  be- 
come the  mere  unmeaning  struggles  of  a  paralytic  ;  a  trembling 
of  the  limbs,  instead  of  an  effort ;  involuntary  struggles  of  the 
system,  made  without  the  energy  of  the  muscles,  or  the  guidance 
of  the  mind  ;  and  only  proofs  that  life  is  not  entirely  extinct 
What  then  are  you  to  become  in  the  future  periods  of  your 
earthly  residence.  Like  the  paralytic  to  whom  I  have  alluded, 
you  will  become  mere  dependents  on  the  bounty  and  protection 
of  those  around  you  :  if  any  can  be  found,  whom  nature  will 
compel  to  assume  this  care.  In  the  same  helpless  state  of  im- 
becility you  will  need  to  be  watched,  and  nursed,  and  fed,  by 


SER.  VIII.]  ON  SLOTH.  123 

Others ;  will  be  mere  burdens  on  the  industry  and  humanity  of 
your  connections  ;  will  be  mere  burdens  to  yourselves  ;  will  drag 
life  onward  as  a  load  ;  and  will  ultimately  expire  under  the 
pressure. 

Another  class  of  idlers  in  this  Institution,  and  that  much  lar- 
ger than  both  the  former,  is  composed  of  those,  who  are  vota- 
ries to  pleasure.  These  are  not  in  the  absolute  sense  slothful. 
It  is  not  true  that  they  do  nothing.  It  is  only  true,  that  they  do 
nothing  to  any  valuable  purpose  ;  nothing  which  is  of  any  use 
to  themselves,  their  fellow  men,  or  their  God.  They  do  much: 
but  all  which  they  do,  is  mischievous  to  themselves  and  to  others  ; 
often,  very  often  it  is  fatal  to  both.  In  describing  them  it  would 
be  neither  proper  nor  possible  for  me  to  point  out  either  partic- 
ular persons,  or  facts,  I  shall  therefore  exhibit  them,  as  they  have 
always  existed  in  such  institutions  ;  and  shall  leave  it  to  those 
who  are  present,  and  are  involved  in  the  description,  however 
few  or  many  they  may  be,  to  apply  it  to  themselves. 

One  subordinate  class  of  these  persons  is  made  up  of  those. 
who  are  devotees  to  dress  and  appearance.  They  were  sent  hith- 
er to  adorn  their  minds  with  learning,  science,  and  virtue.  They 
spend  their  time  in  adorning  their  persons  with  fine  clothes.  Noi 
books,  but  fashions,  are  the  objects  of  their  study  :  and  their  les- 
sons of  instruction  are  all  taken  from  the  tailor.  The  humar* 
mind  is,  of  course,  under  the  government  of  one  controlling  ob- 
ject. By  him,  to  whom  dress  is  this  object,  knowledge  is  of 
course  forgotten.  In  vain  does  a  teacher  labour  to  pour  instruc- 
tion into  this  vessel  of  the  Danaides.  It  is  every  where  pierced 
with  holes  ;  and  whatever  it  receives  merely  passes  through. 
How  miserably  do  parents  err,  how  deplorably  must  parents  be  dis- 
appointed, who  send  such  children  to  a  seminary  of  learning  ? 
How  much  less  expensive,  how  much  less  mortifying,  would  it 
have  been  to  dress  them  at  home.  They  are  sent  hither  to  be- 
come men  ;  and  they  leave  the  place  of  their  education  fops 
and  beaux.  No  human  character  is,  perhaps,  more  diminutive  ; 
no  resemblance  to  an  insect  more  inspressive.  The  minds  of  all 
such  persons  are  uncultivated,  and  desolate  :  the  field  of  the 


124  ON  SLOTH.  [SER.  VIII. 

slothful,  grown  over  with  briers  and  thorns ;  in  which  not  one 
thing  of  use  is  permitted  to  spring. 

In  this  class  is  found,  to  a  great  extent,  a  subordinate  one,  who 
spend  a  great  part  of  their  collegiate  life  in  visiting.  These 
waste  their  time  in  displaying  their  persons  and  dress  to  others  : 
and  in  trifling  conversation  about  subjects  of  no  value  ;  appar- 
ently believing,  that  their  souls  were  formed  only  to  trifle  ;  and 
that  their  final  account,  although  made  up  of  nothing  but  trifling, 
will  be  accepted  by  the  Judge  of  the  quick  and  the  dead.  How 
distant  an  approximation  is  this  towards  the  character  of  a  ra- 
tional being  :  a  being,  formed  to  know,  and  love,  and  serve  God  ; 
a  being,  fitted  to  become  a  blessing  to  mankind  ;  and  destined, 
during  this  period  of  probation,  to  secure  immortal  glory  be- 
yond the  grave ! 

But  all  idlers  in  this  and  other  seminaries  of  the  same  nature, 
do  not  spend  life  in  mere  trifling.  There  are  those,  and  the  pro- 
portion is  not  small,  who  employ  a  great  part  of  their  collegiate 
existence  in  keeping  company  with  each  other.  Most  of  these 
aim  at  vice  in  more  solid  forms,  and  on  a  more  significant  scale. 
All  do  not  indeed  commence  their  career  with  direct  designs  of 
this  nature.  Some  are  drawn  to  such  scenes  merely  by  social 
propensities  :  Others,  by  indisposition  to  study,  and  the  conse- 
quent necessity  of  finding  some  employment  in  which  they  may 
spend  their  time  less  heavily  and  less  gloomily  than  in  absolute 
inexertion.  The  mind  is  in  its  nature  incapable  of  being  totally 
stagnant ;  and  instinctively  demands  some  engagement,  by  which 
its  faculties  may  in  some  degree  at  least  be  occupied.  Those, 
who  in  the  literal  sense  are  willing  to  do  nothing,  are  few  ;  are 
perhaps  always  diseased  ;  and  usually  may  be  regarded  as  inhab- 
iting diseased  bodies.  The  rest,  particularly  those  of  the  class 
now  under  consideration,  although  idle  with  respect  to  every 
thing  which  is  good  are  suflficiently  active  in  doing  evil.  First  or 
last  this  becomes  the  great  object  of  their  association.  The 
cluster  is  originally  gathered,  perhaps,  in  the  hours  of  relaxation  ; 
but  afterwards  and  at  no  distant  periods,  in  those  of  study ;  and. 
ultimately,  at  late  and  untimely  seasons  of  the  night.     At  first  if 


SER.  VIII.]  ON  SLOTM.  126 

is  assembled  in  the  Collegiate  rooms :  ultimately,  it  is  collected 
in  rooms  abroad  ;  particularly  in  those  buildings  which  are  un- 
occupied by  families  ;  buildings  which  in  the  night  become  soli- 
tudes, where  no  witnesses  of  what  is  passing  within  approach 
nearer  than  the  street.  In  these  meetings  youths  are  trained  up 
to  sin,  in  form  ;  with  the  combined  efforts  of  a  multitude  sedu- 
lously helping  each  other  onward  with  their  united  ingenuity, 
arts,  and  labours,  to  Corruption  and  disgrace,  beggary  and  ruin, 
in  this  life,  and  to  perdition  in  that  which  is  to  come. 

Here  profaneness  runs  speedily  through  all  its  changes,  from 
the  half  formed  language  of  irreverence,  babbled  by  the  young 
adventurer  in  licentiousness,  whose  conscience  has  not  yet  been 
stupified,  and  who  stili  hesitates  under  the  impressions  of  a  reli- 
gious education,  to  the  rank  oath  ;  the  curse,  which  invocates 
damnation  on  himself,  and  his  companions ;  and  the  outrageous 
blasphemy,  which  deliriously  assaults  the  throne  of  God.  In 
these  dark  retreats,  also,  pollution  is  generated  in  all  its  malig- 
nant forms.  Here  the  tongue  learns  to  vibrate  through  every 
degree  on  the  rank  scale  of  licentiousness,  from  the  obscure  innu- 
endo to  gross,  bald,  sickening,  obscenity.  The  imagination,  at 
the  same  time,  is  here  set  on  fire  of  hell :  and  the  soul,  tainted 
and  rendered  putrid  with  impurity,  becomes  a  lazar-house  of  cor- 
ruption, and  sends  up  rank  and  poisonous  fumes  to  heaven. 
Here,  also,  purposes  and  habits  of  pollution  are  formed,  which 
fix  the  miserable  wretch  who  is  the  subject  of  them,  beyond  th« 
hope  of  reformation  or  recall ;  and  invoking  on  his  head  a  judi- 
cial sentence  of  reprobation,  begin  his  perdition  on  this  side  of 
the  grave. 

In  these  cells  of  sin,  also,  is  begun  and  carried  on  a  regular 
eourse  of  Gaming.  Books,  learning  and  science,  character  and 
virtue,  are  here  bartered  for  cards  and  dice.  The  money,  given 
by  the  parent  as  the  means  of  supporting  the  honourable  educa- 
tion of  his  child,  earned  with  his  own  toil,  and  often  spared  from 
his  own  comfort,  is  ungratefully  hazarded,  fraudulently  won, 
and  foolishly  lost.  Here  the  spirit  of  sharping  and  dishonesty 
commences :  and  the  fair  mind  is  darkened  with  the  stains  of  h«ll. 

Vol.  II.  17 


126  ON  SLOTH.  [SER.  VIII 

The  thoughts  become  gloomy  ;  the  temper  morose  ;  the  purpo- 
ses base  ;  the  character  despicable  ;  the  hfe  gross  with  turpitude; 
the  man  hostile  to  every  thing  which  is  good  ;  and  the  hope  of 
immortality  lost  in  eternal  night. 

Finally.  In  these  chambers  of  death  commence  habits  of  in- 
toxication. Strong  drink  here  becomes,  in  a  sense,  necessary  to 
sustain  the  riot ;  to  restore  the  decaying  spirits  ;  to  drown  the  re- 
membrance of  his  loss  ;  to  renew  the  oath  and  the  curse;  to  in- 
vigorate licentiousness  ;  and  universally  to  keep  up  the  tone  of 
sin.  Exajnple,  in  this  case  as  in  others,  the  serpent,  which 
charms  its  miserable  victim  to  the  jaws  of  ruin ;  the  magician, 
which  enchants  all  the  rational  powers,  and  benumbs  the  con- 
science with  eternal  sleep  ;  draws  the  wretched  culprit  onward 
from  sin  to  sin,  until  he  crosses  the  irremediable  limit  of  hopeless 
transgression,  and  is  lost  forever.  Fixed  beyond  recall  in  ini- 
quity ;  judicially  hardened  ;  he  henceforth  reels  onward  to  the 
grave  and  to  the  judgment.  Such  are  the  characteristics,  such 
the  pursuits  and  such  the  end,  of  sloth  in  a  Seminary  of  Learn- 
ing. 

All  these  persons  by  the  courses  of  vice,  which  they  volunta- 
rily pursue,  are  driven  also  to  others.  These  courses,  in  many 
ways,  in  a  sense  compel  them  to  be  disorderly  in  their  attendance 
upon  their  collegiate  duties.  They  are  absent  from  their  recita- 
tions, from  prayers,  and  from  public  worship.  For  these  trans- 
gressions they  are  obliged  to  invent  excuses  ;  true,  perhaps  at 
first,  in  some  respects,  and  as  they  are  capable  of  being  un- 
derstood ;  but  certainly  false,  as  they  are  intended  to  be  under- 
stood. Here  the  youth  sometimes  begins,  and,  if  he  has  already 
begun,  always  strengthens,  the  spirit  of  prevarication.  Here 
he  loses  the  high  reverence  for  truth  which  this  eminently  sacred 
object  demands  of  every  child  of  Adam.  Here  he  chills  the  sus- 
ceptibility of  conscience  ;  that  apprehensiveness  of  guilt,  under 
which  the  soul  thrills  with  an  electrical  alarm,  whenever  tempta- 
tion and  sin  are  presented  to  its  eye,  and  which  is  the  first  and 
chief  security  against  transgression,  inwoven  into  the  constitution 
of  our  nature.     Here  he  learns  to  look  at  falsehood  with  an  eye 


SER.  VIII.]  ON  SLOTH.  127 

less  and  less  trembling,  until  it  becomes  cool,  steady,  and  satis- 
fied.  Finally,  here  the  habit  of  falshood  is  often  riveted ;  and 
the  melancholy  career  begun,  which  ends  only  in  perdition. 

At  the  same  time,  the  idleness,  the  profaneness,  the  riot,  and 
the  gambling,  compel  the  Instructors,  if  they  have  sufficient  in- 
tegrity to  discharge  the  duties  of  their  office  faithfully,  to  animad- 
vert in  various  modes  upon  his  conduct.  He  is  reproved,  warn- 
ed, and  rebuked.  This  rouses  his  resentment ;  awakens  a  spirit 
of  revenge  ;  and  prompts  him  to  new  and  more  violent  perpetra- 
tions. He  is  then  formally  and  solemnly  censured.  The  same 
spirit,  stung  into  new  hostility,  endeavours  to  reek  its  resentment 
in  new  crimes.  Detected  again,  he  is  finally  sent  away,  with  dis- 
grace to  himself,  and  extreme  mortification  to  his  parents. 

Int-o  the  world  he  carries  nothing,  but  wasted  time ;  abused 
talents  ;  an  empty  mind,  shrunk  by  sloth  and  polluted  with  vice; 
and  a  life,  in  which  conscience  finds  nothing  to  approve,  and 
God  sees  every  thing  to  condemn.  His  habits  have  now  become 
too  fixed  to  permit  any  reasonable  hope  of  a  change  for  the  bet- 
ter. Knowledge  he  has  none,  to  qualify  him  for  those  kinds  of 
business,  for  which  learning  and  science  are  the  indispensable 
preparation.  Study  he  cannot ;  because  his  idleness  in  these 
walls  has  rendered  the  employment  loathsome.  For  active  bu- 
siness of  every  kind,  he  is  unfitted,  both  by  his  ignorance  and  his 
inchnation.  He,  who  has  been  idle  here,  will  ordinarily  be  idle 
wherever  he  is  :  and  he,  who  has  spent  so  much  of  life  in  seden- 
tary idleness,  is  peculiarly  disqualified  for  the  exertions  of  activ- 
ity. Besides,  he  leaves  this  place  under  a  cloud.  He  has  acted 
in  such  a  manner,  as  to  be  driven  from  these  walls.  The  reason, 
whatever  it  may  be,  will  always  be  believed  to  have  been  an  un- 
happy one  for  him ;  and  usually  will  be  the  true  one.  The  subject 
has  been  so  long  under  the  eye  of  the  public,  and  has  been  so 
often  illustrated  in  the  experience  of  ages,  that  it  is  well  under- 
stood by  the  community  at  large.  All  men  know  that  vice  is  the 
regular  object  of  collegiate  censures :  and  most  men  entirely  be- 
lieve, what  thirty  years  experience  enables  me  to  know,  that  idle- 
ness is  that  bitter  and  prolific  stem,  of  which  all  raok  and  poison- 


128  ON  SLOTH.  [SER.  VIII. 

ous  vices  are  the  fruits.  Of  twenty  students  who  leave  this  Sem- 
inary in  disgrace,  nineteen  are  ruined  by  sloth.  So  long,  and  so 
regularly  has  this  been  the  fact,  that  it  is  in  a  sense  proverbially 
as  well  as  generally  known. 

With  these  stains  upon  his  character  the  miserable  youth  en- 
ters the  world.  The  course,  by  which  alone  he  can  recover  a 
decent  reputation,  is  all  ascending,  steep,  and  ditticult.  Who 
can  wonder,  that  to  him  habitually  slothful  and  vicious  it  should 
seem  too  long  and  too  hard,  to  be  resolutely  encountered.  Sloth, 
according  to  ancient  fable,  had  charms  even  for  Hercules.  What 
must  be  its  power  over  a  youth,  who  was  fascinated  by  it  at  first, 
and  has  regularly  chosen  for  a  succession  of  years  to  bow  him- 
self under  the  yoke,  without  opposition  or  reluctance.  Hardly 
ever  are  the  exertions  made,  which,  in  the  case  before  us,  are 
indispensable  to  success.  Idle  here,  he  is  idle  every  where.  Vi- 
cious here,  he  is  vicious  through  life.  Without  reputation  here, 
disgrace  accompanies  him  to  the  grave. 

As  he  is  useless  to  mankind  ;  it  cannot  be  supposed,  that  they 
will  regard  him  either  with  esteem  or  affection  ;  or  that  they  will 
take  any  measures  to  render  his  iife  pleasant.  But  he  is  not 
merely  useless.  He  is  a  common  nuisance.  Too  indolent  to 
provide  for  himself  an  honest  subsistence,  he  is  obliged,  if  he 
subsist  at  all,  to  derive  the  means  from  a  succession  of  tricks  and 
frauds  ;  or  to  receive  them  from  the  hand  of  charity.  His  char- 
acter at  the  same  time  is  contemptible,  and  his  example  conta- 
gious and  baleful.  Of  course,  he  becomes  an  object  on  the  one 
hand  of  contempt,  on  the  other  of  loathing.  Want,  with  shriv- 
elled cheeks,  and  haggard  eyes  stares  him  in  the  face  wherever 
he  goes.  Wherever  he  goes,  he  is  followed  by  the  finger  of  scorn, 
the  jeer  of  derision,  and  the  hiss  of  infamy. 

In  the  mean  time  he  has  a  soul ;  and,  in  spite  of  his  sloth  and 
his  wishes,  is  accountable  and  immortal.  He,  who  is  idle  in  his 
temporal  concerns,  will  be  lazy  in  those  which  are  spiritual.  In 
the  case  before  us,  vice,  of  many  kinds  and  in  gross  degrees, 
combines  with  riveted  sloth,  to  render  the  work  of  salvation 
doubly  difficult.     To  a  slothful  mind  the  way  to  eternal  hfe  is 


MER.  VIII.]  ON  SLOTH.  129 

full  of  obstacles  ;  steep  ;  rough  ;  hard  of  ascent ;  immeasurably 
long  ;  solitary  ;  and  doubtful  m  its  termination.  On  all  these  ac- 
counts it  is  forbidding  ;  full  of  discouragements  ;  full  of  toil ; 
devoid  of  comfort ;  devoid  of  hope.  To  a  vicious  mind  it  is  dis- 
gusting in  itself.  Such  a  mind  regards  the  business  of  obtaining 
salvation  as  an  odious,  painful  employment ;  all  the  parts  of 
which  it  considers  only  with  disgust.  Equally  disagreeable  to 
such  a  mind  is  the  salvation  itself.  It  sees  nothing  in  eternal 
life  worth  the  possession  ;  much  less  worth  the  labour  of  attain- 
ment. All  the  disadvantages,  therefore,  under  which  man  la- 
bours with  respect  to  this  mighty  concern,  combine  their  influ- 
ence to  prevent  this  man  from  securing  the  glorious  acquisition, 
and  to  shut  him  out  of  heaven. 

On  such  a  man  it  cannot  be  expected  that  God  will  smile.  He, 
who  will  do  nothing  for  himself  or  his  fellowmen  ;  who  only  de- 
vours what  they  earn  ;  and  who  lives  to  no  end,  but  to  sin,  and 
to  make  others  sin  ;  he  who  does  nothing  for  the  Author  of  his 
being  ;  but  violates  his  precepts,  abuses  his  grace,  and  dishon- 
ours his  name,  through  life  :  can  certainly  expect  no  favour  from 
God.  We  know  the  end,  as  well  as  the  character,  of  the  servant 
who  wrapped  his  talent  in  a  napkin^  and  buried  it  in  the  earth. 
How  much  less  guilty  was  he,  than  most  of  those  whose  char- 
acter has  been  described  in  this  discourse.  What  then  can  these 
persons  expect,  but  to  be  given  over  to  premature  hardness  of 
heart,  and  blindness  of  mind  ?  Useless  and  noxious  only,  while 
they  live  in  the  present  world,  what  can  they  hope,  but  to  be  mis- 
erable in  that  which  is  to  come.  Wicked  and  slothful  here,  they 
will  of  course,  with  all  the  other  wicked  and  slothful,  be  there 
bound  hand  and  foot,  and  cast  into  outer  darkness,  where  is  weep- 
ing and  gnashing  of  teeth. 

It  is  remarkable,  that  this  useless,  worthless,  wretched  being, 
throughout  all  the  parts  of  this  deplorable  progress,  hugs  him- 
self upon  his  superiour  wisdom.  This  strange  union  of  self- 
complacency  with  folly  and  vice,  has  not  escaped  the  observa- 
tion of  that  profound  investigator  of  the  human  character ;  the 
mithor  of  the  Book  of  Proverbs.     "  The  sluggard,"   says  he, 


130  <JN  SLOTH.  [8ER.  VIII. 

"  is  wiser  in  his  own  conceit,  than  seven  men  who  can  render  a 
reason."  In  this  Seminary,  and  probably  in  others,  he  always  pro- 
nounces himself  a  genius  ;  vain  of  his  talents,  priding  himself 
particularly  in  his  sagacity,  and  looking  with  contempt  on  his 
industrious  companions,  although  commonly  superiour  to  him  in 
every  valuable  endowment  as  well  as  attainment.  This  silly 
dream  of  his  own  shrewdness  passes  with  him  through  life;  and, 
with  all  his  rags,  and  shame,  and  sin,  he  thinks  himself  wiser 
than  any  of  those  around  him. 

We  are  now  prepared  to  sum  up  the  account.  The  idle  mem- 
ber of  this  Seminary  enjoys  what  pleasure  he  can,  in  sloth,  in 
dress,  in  visiting,  in  vicious  company  ;  in  profaneness,  gaming, 
drinking,  and  riot.  On  the  other  hand,  he  is  ignorant,  pitied, 
despised,  and  punished.  At  the  same  time  he  imbibes  and  rivets 
habits  of  vice,  which  cling  to  him  through  life.  Into  the  world 
he  enters  with  the  same  pleasures,  continually  lessening  indeed, 
together  with  the  means  of  them  ;  until  at  a  period  not  very  dis- 
tant, he  can  enjoy  them  no  more.  Thither  vice  and  shame  fol- 
low him.  His  character,  here  broken,  is  there  lost.  Poverty, 
contempt,  and  disgrace,  seize  upon  him  as  their  prey.  By  good 
men  he  is  pitied  ;  by  bad  men  despised ;  and  by  both  regarded 
with  reprobation.  Parents  point  him  out  to  their  children,  as  a 
warning  against  sloth  and  sin  :  and  the  Providence  of  God  holds 
him  out  to  mankind  for  general  instruction  as  a  wretched  monu- 
ment of  abused  talents  and  neglected  privileges.  He  lives  un- 
desired.  He  dies  unlamented.  For  eternity  he  makes  no  prep- 
aration ;  and  enters  it  with  no  hope.  "  He,  that  hath  an  ear  to 
hear,  let  him  hear." 


SERMON  IX. 

THE  DANGER  OF  FREQUENTING  EVIL  COMPANY.—Sermon  1 

•-'   ®   e^ 

Proverbs  xiii.  20. 
But  a  companion  of  fools  shall  he  destroyed. 

The  writer  of  this  book  particularly,  and  the  Scriptural  wri- 
ters generally,  teach  us,  that  hy  folly  they  mean  sin.  Thus  Sol- 
omon observes,  that  the  thought  of  foolishness  is  sin.  "  Fools," 
he  also  says,  "  despise  wisdom  ;"  that  is,  religion  ;  "  and  make  a 
mock  at  sin  :"  a  character,  which  with  particular  propriety  be- 
longs to  gross  sinners.  Such  sinners  seem,  also,  to  be  especially  in- 
tended in  the  following  declaration ;  "It  is  an  abomination  to  fools 
to  depart  from  evil."  It  is  hardly  necessary  to  observe,  that  all 
these  passages  clearly  teach  us,  as  indeed  do  many  others,  that 
the  writer  of  them  by  folly  intended  sin,  and  by  fools  those  who 
practise  it. 

The  propriety  of  this  use  of  these  terms  is  obvious.  Sin  is 
folly  by  way  of  eminence,  and  those,  who  practise  it,  are  fools 
in  a  higher  degree,  than  any  other  men. 

With  this  explanation,  the  text  may  be  easily  seen  to  contain 
the  following  Doctrine  :  He,  who  frequents  the  company  of  sin- 
ners, is  in  danger  of  eternal  destruction. 

The  declaration  of  the  text  is  absolute  ;  but,  like  other  abso- 
lute declarations,  of  which  the  Scriptures,  particularly  this  book, 
contain  a  very  great  number,  is  intended  to  be  understood  with 
some  qualifications.  It  is  not  true,  that  every  one,  who  frequent* 
the  company  of  sinners  is  destroyed  in  any  sense.  Some  per- 
sons keep  company  with  men  of  this  description  for  a  considera- 
ble period ;  and  then  renounce  it,  from  a  conviction   of  their 


i  32  THE  DANGER  OF  [SER.  IX, 

danger.  Of  these,  undoubtedly  some  become  pious  ;  and  es- 
cape the  destruction  intended  in  the  text.  Others,  also,  are 
compelled  to  frequent  such  company  by  their  own  proper,  law- 
ful business  ;  and  instead  of  being  corrupted,  regard  their  com- 
panions with  loathing  and  dread  ;  and  derive  from  them  little 
else,  beside  warning  and  amendment.  The  case,  however,  con- 
sidered in  the  general  manner,  which  is  here  supposed,  is  far  oth- 
erwise. The  greater  number,  and  all,  who  voluntarily  choose 
such  company  through  life,  are  ruined.  Every  one,  therefore, 
ought  to  believe  himself  to  be  in  the  most  serious  danger. 

That  eternal  destruction  is  here  designed  is  too  clear  to  admit 
of  a  question.  Otherwise  the  observation  is  so  evidently  untrue, 
that  it  could  never  have  been  written  by  a  sober  man.  Many  of 
the  persons,  spoken  of,  undoubtedly  come,  from  this  very  cause, 
to  an  untimely  death.  Some  are  killed  in  duels.  Some  sink  un- 
der the  pressure  of  infamy.  Some  become  suicides.  Multitudes 
are  victims  to  intemperance  ;  and  not  a  small  number  are  swept 
away  by  the  hand  of  pubhc  justice.  Still,  it  is  not  generally  true, 
that  such  persons  do  not,  very  commonly,  reach  the  usual  limit 
of  human  life.  Evidently,  therefore,  the  destruction  here  speci- 
fied cannot  have  been  of  a  temporal  nature  ;  but  hes  undoubted- 
ly, beyond  the  grave. 

This  sentence  was  uttered  by  the  wisest  man  who  has  hitherto 
been  found  in  the  present  world  ;  a  man,  peculiary  versed  in  the 
affairs  of  his  fellow  men  ;  a  man,  who  watched  human  conduct 
with  a  more  critical  attention,  than  any  other,  and  with  a  more 
piercing  eye ;  whose  observations  concerning  it  are  more  just, 
various,  and  profound,  than  any,  which  are  left  upon  record. 
It  was  uttered,  after  he  had  lived  long,  and  seen  its  truth  proved 
by  abundant  experience.  It  was  uttered  by  the  Spirit  of  God, 
who  had  surveyed  all  the  conduct  of  men  from  the  beginning, 
and  had  seen  this  truth  verified  in  innumerable  instances,  in  every 
nation,  and  in  every  preceding  age,  of  the  world.  It  was  utter- 
ed by  the  judge  of  all  the  earth ;  loho  both  rewardeth  the  fool, 
and  rewardeth  the  transgressor,  with  the  very  destruction,  de- 
nounced in  this  solemn  and  benevolent  warning.  The  truth  of 
the  declaration  is,  therefore,  established  beyond  every  doubt. 


SER.  rX]  FREQUENTING  EVIL  COMPANY.  133 

Still,  it  may  be  useful  to  examine  the  subject,  as  it  is  presented  to 
us  by  experience.  Illustrations  from  this  source  may  always  be 
advantageously  subjoined  to  Scriptural  declarations.  What  we 
see  we  are  apt  peculiarly  to  feel.  Our  conviction  may  not,  per- 
haps, be  more  complete  ;  but  our  impressions  cannot  fail  of  be- 
ing enhanced. 

In  illustration  of  this  doctrine,  I  observe,  therefore, 

1st.  Sinners^  when  they  become  Companions^  devise  wicked- 
ness for  each  other. 

Different  persons  see  the  same  subjects  in  different  lights,  and 
on  different  sides.  Some  sinners  turn  their  thoughts  to  wicked- 
ness in  one  form.  Others  survey  it  in  another.  The  views  of  the 
whole  number,  found  in  any  collection  of  such  men,  are  much 
more  extensive,  various,  and  complete,  than  the  views  of  an 
individual.  All  these  by  communication  become,  in  the  end, 
the  views  of  all.  Thus  in  the  unhappily  managed  State  prisons 
of  this  country  the  youngest  criminal,  after  a  short  confinement, 
acquires  all  the  knowledge,  art,  and  skill,  of  all  the  hackneyed  vil- 
lains who  are  his  fellow  prisoners ;  and  is  turned  out  upon  the 
world  a  veteran  in  adroitness,  in  determination,  and  in  hopeless 
obduracy. 

So  at  the  gaming  table  all  the  tricks  of  play,  all  the  arts  of 
sharping  and  defrauding,  are  soon  learned  even  by  the  youngest 
adventurer.  In  the  same  manner  the  companions  of  thieves, 
highwaymen,  forgers,  and  coiners  of  false  money,  soon  imbibe 
all  the  arts  of  the  oldest  transgressors.  In  a  similar  manner  also, 
those,  who  frequent  the  haunts  of  lewdness,  and  intemperance, 
become  practised  votaries  to  these  sins ;  and,  as  guides,  direct 
the  unhappy  novice  to  the  successful  perpetration  of  their  respec- 
tive crimes,  and  to  the  scenes  of  guilt  and  pollution,  in  which 
they  are  ensnared  and  destroyed. 

Nor  is  even  this  all.  In  a  great  multitude  of  cases  they  invent 
new  kinds  of  wickedness ;  new  ways,  in  which  that,  which  has 
been  long  pursued,  may  be  safely  and  advantageously  practised  ; 
new  modes  of  providing  against  the  evils  of  detection ;  and  new 

Vol.  IL  18 


134  THE  DANGER  OF  [SER.  IX- 

barriers  against  the  intrusion  or  the  resentment  of  parents,  mag- 
istrates, and  others  who  may  be  especially  dreaded. 

Thus  multitudes  of  crimes  are  devised  and  perpetrated,  which 
owe  their  existence  solely  to  the  fact  that  the  criminals  kept  com- 
pany with  each  other. 

Hence  it  is  often  said  by  the  wretch,  who  has  been  discovered 
in  the  commission  of  gross  sins,  "  I  should  never  have  thought  of 
doing  such  a  thing,  had  I  not  been  in  that  place,  or  in  that  com- 
pany." 

2dly.  Sinners  by  being  companions  encourage  each  other  to  sin. 
In  the  first  place,  by  Example. 

Mankind  are  creatures  of  imitation.  The  propensity  to  imi- 
tate is  conspicuous  even  in  infancy,  but  much  more  in  early  child- 
hood. Children  then  scarcely  do  any  thing,  but  what  they  see 
others  do  ;  and  attempt  to  do  almost  every  thing,  which  they  see 
done  by  others.-  This  original  characteristic  of  our  nature  is 
never  lost.  All  men  imitate  much  through  life  :  and  many  do 
little  else.  Not  a  small  portion  even  of  virtuous  conduct  owes 
its  existence  to  this  cause,  while  sins  are  multiphed  by  it  without 
end. 

To  sin  we  are  prone  by  nature.  The  sight  of  sin,  therefore, 
in  the  example  of  others  leads  us  by  mere  social  impulse  to  the 
commission.  Nor  is  this  all.  The  example  emboldens,  nay  it 
prompts,  us  to  follow.  We  feel  an  ambition  to  resemble  our  com- 
panions, and  to  rival  them  in  whatever  they  do.  At  the  same 
time,  the  guilt  and  the  danger  gradually  lessen  in  our  apprehen- 
sion. On  the  one  hand,  they  become  familiar  by  being  frequent- 
ly presented  to  our  view  ;  and,  on  the  other,  are  little  felt  by  the 
hardened  beings,  who  sin  continually  before  our  eyes.  Thus 
both  become  less,  and  less ;  until  they  are  finally  forgotten. 

Secondly.  Sinful  companions  encourage  each  other  to  sin  by  Ar- 
guments. 

Older  and  more  shrewd,  perpetrators  have  long  been  oblig- 
ed to  consider,  extensively,  the  means  of  quieting  the  soul  under 
the  consciousness  of  guilt,  and  the  apprehensions  of  danger. 
All  the   arts  of  self  justification,  and  self  flattery,  and   all  the 


SER.  IX.]  FREQUENTING  EVIL  COMPANY.  135 

means  of  resisting  tiie  force  of  arguments  against  their  practices, 
they  have  been  compelled  to  explore  and  adopt.  To  these  refu- 
ges they  have  been  often  driven,  and  have  thus  rendered  them 
familiar.  They  have  found  them  necessary  to  themselves  -,  and 
therefore  know  that  they  will  be  useful  to  others.  Hence  they 
bring  them  out  on  every  occasion,  to  quiet  the  scruples,  and  sus- 
tain the  trembling  hearts,  of  young  beginners. 

To  these  adepts  in  iniquity,  also,  every  advantage,  arising 
from  the  commission  of  the  sin  in  question,  is  at  hand ;  and  such 
advantages  they  fail  not  to  exhibit  in  the  fairest  colours.  The  dis- 
advantages, at  the  same  time,  whether  real  or  pretended,  v^^hich 
may  spring  from  not  committing  the  crime,  and  losing  the  favor- 
able opportunity,  and  from  obeying  the  dictates  of  conscience, 
they  know  how  to  set  forth  in  lights  equally  strong  and  affecting ; 
and  thus  place  the  unskilful  adventurer  on  enchanted  ground ; 
where  every  thing  wears  a  false  form,  and  deceitful  hue. 

Thirdly.  Such  companions  encourage  others  to  sin  hy  Exhor- 
tations. 

Every  passion  is  addressed  by  these  men,  from  which  they  ex- 
pect any  aid.  The  fears  of  novices  are  attacked  on  the  one 
hand  ;  their  resolution,  on  the  other.  Their  sympathy  is  awa- 
kened. The  obligation  of  being  faithful  to  the  fraternity  is  urged. 
Their  cowardice  is  censured.  Their  courage  is  praised.  Their 
hopes  are  stimulated.  They  are  promised  esteem,  honour,  and 
rewards.  They  are  threatened  with  contempt,  desertion,  discov- 
ery, and  punishment.  Like  the  Philistines,  when  they  fought 
against  the  ark  of  God,  these  modern  enemies  of  his  cross  and 
kingdom,  mutually  cry,  "Be  strong,  and  quit  yourselves  like 
men." 
Fourthly.  Such  sinners  encourage  each  other  to  sin  hy  Flattery. 
No  persons  so  industriously  labour  to  find  out  the  weak  side  of 
others  as  hardened  sinners :  and  none  more  usually  succeed. 
To  this  they  address  themselves  with  a  power,  not  easily  resisted. 
All  the  qualities,  for  which  they  see  their  young  companions 
value  themselves,  they  enhance.  Those,  of  which  they  are 
ashamed,   they  either  soften,   or  anniliilate.     To  their  persons 


136  THE  DANGER  OF  [SER.  IX. 

they  profess  an  ardent  friendship  ;  to  their  interests,  a  fixed  at- 
tachment. They  stimulate  their  hopes  ;  commend  their  efforts  ; 
prefer  them  to  their  rivals  ;  and  praise  the  spirit  and  ingenuity, 
which  they  discover  in  the  commission  of  crimes. 

To  these  persons,  in  the  character  of  friends,  the  novice  has 
united  himself  as  a  companion.  Their  esteem,  therefore,  and 
their  good  will,  are  by  this  very  union  invested  with  high  impor- 
tance. To  stand  well  with  them,  is  often  thought  to  be  an  en- 
viable distinction  :  and  whatever  they  say  makes  of  course  a  dan- 
gerous impression  on  the  inexperienced  heart.  To  their  exam- 
ple, their  arguments,  their  exhortations,  and  their  iiatteries,  the 
novice  in  iniquity  submits  at  first  with  little  resistance ;  and  ulti- 
mately yields  himself  up  without  a  struggle. 

Fifthly.   Sinners  encourage  their  companions  to  sin  by  Ridicule. 

Fools,  we  are  informed,  7Hake  a  mock  at  sin  ;  and,  it  may  be 
added  with  truth,  at  virtue  also.  Against  both  these  great  ob- 
jects, and  every  thing  connected  with  them,  is  the  ridicule  of  such 
men  assiduously  directed.  As  far  as  is  in  their  power,  they  laugh 
religion,  duty,  the  Christian  character,  parental  authority,  parent- 
al tenderness,  filial  piety  and  conscientiousness,  the  denunciations 
of  the  Scriptures,  a  future  retribution,  and,  in  a  word,  all  serious 
thoughts,  persons,  and  things,  out  of  countenance.  To  overcome 
the  stripling's  reluctance  to  any  sin,  they  tell  him,  that  he  has 
done  other  things  which  were  as  bad,  or  worse ;  and  that  it  is 
contemptible  to  stagger  at  small  things  after  he  has  perpetrated 
greater.  At  his  scruples  they  sneer.  At  his  apprehensions  they 
smile.  Detection,  they  assure  him,  is  impossible ;  or,  at  least, 
incredible  ;  and  punishment  and  perdition,  mere  tales  of  wonder, 
repeated  with  no  other  design,  than  to  frighten  children  away 
from  pleasure.  They  further  inform  him,  that,  whatever  may  be 
true  of  some  sins,  that,  which  is  proposed  by  them  in  any  given 
case,  is  either  no  sin  at  all,  or  a  mere  trifle  undeserving  of  the 
least  serious  regard.  At  the  same  time  they  hiss  at  all  the  cau- 
tions, warnings  and  injunctions,  of  parents,  ministers  and  magis- 
trates, as  mere  bugbears  -,  believed  by  none  of  those  who  utter 
them,  and  employed  merely  to  compel  the  obedience  of  the 


SER.  IX.]  FREQUENTING  EVIL  COMPANY.  137 

young  and  ignorant,  and  make  the  task  of  governing  easy  to 
themselves.  All  things  of  this  nature  they  declare  have  never 
been  believed,  except  by  children  and  fools :  vi^hile  all  v^^ise  and 
sagacious  men  have  derided  them  from  the  beginning.  Weak 
and  silly  people,  they  observe,  have  always  been  priest-ridden, 
^nd  conscience-ridden  :  just  as  they  have  believed  in  dreams,  and 
trembled  at  ghosts  and  spectres :  while  men  of  sense  have 
laughed  at  them  all ;  and,  boldly  challenging  their  own  rights, 
have  with  a  noble  independence  of  mind  turned  all  these  gob- 
lins out  of  door.s,  and  seized  resolutely  upon  the  genuine  pleasures 
of  life.  These  and  the  like  things,  uttered  in  the  language  of 
sneer,  and  with  airs  of  contempt  and  derision,  are  usually  taught 
with  a  sure  and  controlling  efficacy.  Few,  even  among  men,  are 
proof  against  the  shafts  of  ridicule.  We  cannot  wonder,  that 
youths  should  become  an  easy  prey. 

3dly.   S'mners  communicate  the  Spirit  of  sinning  to  each  other. 

The  love  of  sin  exists  in  every  child  of  Adam  as  a  powerful 
propensity ;  and  by  means  of  the  social,  sympathetic  spirit  of 
man  is  easily  set  on  fire.  Whatever  things  are  thus  told,  the 
heart  is  prepared  to  believe,  because  it  wishes  to  believe  them. 
The  snare  is  ventured  upon,  because  it  is  pleasant.  The  temp- 
tation is  the  apple  of  the  Manchineel ;  beautiful  to  the  eye,  fra- 
grant to  the  smell,  and  delightful  to  the  taste ;  but  conveying  a 
deadly  poison  to  the  veins.  It  is  the  song  of  the  Sirens  ;  charm- 
ing the  heedless  mariner  to  shipwreck,  on  the  fatal  shore.  It  is 
the  cup  of  Circe  ;  delighting  the  palate  with  its  sweets ;  but 
changing  him  who  drinks  of  it,  into  a  brute.  In  the  midst  of 
companions ;  amid  gaiety,  sport,  mutual  encouragements,  and 
mutual  solicitations,  it  becomes  a  spell ;  enchants  the  eye  ;  and 
fascinates  the  heart.  Cast  your  eyes  upon  a  mob.  What  has 
called  them  together  ?  What  has  roused  their  passions  ?  What 
has  generated  their  violences  ?  Not  one  in  a  hundred  can  an- 
swer these  questions.  Some  trifling  cause  of  no  moment  gath- 
ered, perhaps,  a  little  cluster  at  first.  Others  joined  them,  mere- 
ly because  they  saw  this  collection.  Then  others,  and  others 
still,  till,  finally,  we  see  them  become  a  multitude.     Some  then 


138  THE  DANGER  OF  [SER.  IX. 

cry  one  thing,  and  some  another  ;  as  at  Ephesus  in  the  time  of 
the  Apostles ;  "  for  the  assembly  is  confused,  and  the  greater  part 
know  not  wherefore  they  have  come  together."  Yet  the  passions 
rage  ;  the  soul  is  set  on  fire  ;  and  acts  of  violence,  which  none 
of  them,  separately,  would  have  perpetrated  or  even  devised,  are 
done,  merely  because  the  spark  in  one  bosom  was  caught  by  an- 
other, and  another  ;  and  the  flame  broke  out  with  the  fury  of  a 
conflagration. 

In  a  manner,  generally  corresponding  with  this,  the  sympa- 
thetic spirit  in  evil  companions  spreads  from  breast  to  breast ; 
and  becomes  more  vigorous  by  every  interchange.  Under  its 
influence  all  help  each  other  to  sin  ;  and,  taking  each  other  by 
the  hand,  are  mutually  led  onward  to  perdition. 

4thly.  While  sinners  are  employed  in  the  company  of  each 
other,  they  lose  all  the  benefit,  which  they  might  have  derived  from 
better  instructions,  examples,  and  jnotives. 

This  at  the  first  glance  may  seem  a  trifling  loss.  A  little  re- 
flection will  prove  it  to  be  incalculable,  A  youth  in  this  semi- 
nary would  hardly  think  himself  censurable,  much  less  beheve 
himself  in  danger  of  suffering  any  serious  evil,  from  spending 
one  hour  of  the  twenty  four  in  what  he,  perhaps,  would  call 
agreeable  company,  but  what  is,  in  truth,  too  often  the  very  compa- 
ny, which  I  have  described.  Yet  this  would  amount  to  at  least 
a  twelfth  part  of  the  whole  time,  customarily  devoted  to  the  bu- 
siness of  life  by  very  industrious  men ;  and  probably  to  at  least 
a  sixth  of  what  such  a  youth  would  employ  in  this  manner.  Of 
his  proper  time  for  business  therefore,  it  would  occupy  two  months 
every  year.  But  if  he  spend  07ie  hour  at  the  beginning,  he  will 
soon  consume //iree;  or  half  the  busy  time  of  the  year ;  and 
by  obvious  consequence  half  of  the  busy  period  of  his  own 
life.  When  we  subduct  the  seasons  of  sleep,  of  our  meals,  of 
our  exercise,  of  our  occupation  in  nameless,  trifling  pursuits,  the 
remainder  will  be  found  much  less  than  any  man,  who  has  not 
calculated  with  exactness,  would  be  persuaded  to  believe.  The 
portion  of  time,  devoted  to  such  company,  therefore,  soon  be- 
comes a  formidable  consideration  by  its  amount. 


%ER.  IX.]  FREQUENTING  EVIL  COMPANV.  139 

But,  when  such  company  has  been  frequented  for  a  season,  it 
is  often,  and  in  the  ordinary  course  of  things  usually,  frequented 
with  little  intermission.  Look  at  those  people,  who  resort  to 
Smiths''  shops,  hang  about  corners,  and  lounge  in  markets  ;  and 
you  will  find  them  almost  always  at  their  post,  wasting  away  life 
in  laziness  and  sin.  There  is  scarcely  a  habit,  which  is  more 
powerful,  or  more  absolutely  immoveable. 

From  this  source  there  is  always  much  time,  often  the  greatest 
part,  and  sometimes  the  whole,  of  that  which  we  can  devote  to 
the  great  concerns  of  life,  lost  either  in  the  company  itself,  or 
in  anticipating,  or  remembering,  the  conversation,  the  conduct, 
and  the  sin.  By  a  wise  employment  of  these  seasons,  the  useful 
business  of  life  might  be  effectually  accomplished ;  ample  provi- 
sion made  for  its  comfort ;  an  honourable  reputation  acquired  ; 
the  Bible  read ;  the  closet  frequented  ;  the  moral  state  of  the 
man  explored  and  understood,  by  a  faithful  employment  of  the 
great  duty  of  self-examination  ;  the  best  resolutions  formed  ;  the 
best  courses  of  life  pursued  ;  and  the  soul  secured  in  a  title  to 
eternal  life.  What  a  diflerence  in  the  modes  of  hfe,  in  the  char- 
acter, and  in  the  destiny  of  the  man  ? 

5thly.  In  this  manner  sinners  exclude  themselves  from  better 
company. 

Men  of  worth,  who  are  of  course  men  of  reputation,  are,  from 
mere  self-defence,  obliged  to  refuse  the  company  of  those,  who 
are  often  found  with  the  gross  and  profligate.  At  the  same  time, 
they  reject  all  familiar  intercourse  with  such  men  from  disgust ; 
from  the  mere  influence  of  taste ;  and  shun  it  from  a  sense  of 
duty,  and  from  a  prudent  regard  to  their  own  safety.  Every 
person  may  unite  himself  to  the  society  of  the  wise  and  good, 
if  he  pleases ;  but  he  must  resort  to  no  other.  If  he  betakes 
himself  to  evil  companions ;  they  will  soon  be  of  necessity  his 
only  companions. 

The  first  clause  in  the  verse,  from  which  the  text  is  taken,  is  ; 
"  He,  that  walketh  with  wise  men,  shall  be  wise."  Consider  for 
a  moment  the  nature,  the  value,  and  the  extent,  of  this  declara- 
tion.    Think  what  it  is  to  be  wise  in  the  sense  of  the  Scriptures  : 


140  I'HE  DANGER  OF  [SER.  IX. 

to  be  approved  by  God  ;  and  to  be  accepted  by  him  beyond  the 
grave.  Then,  ponder  the  loss  incurred  by  those,  who  either  can- 
not, or  will  not,  walk  with  wise  men. 

But  this  immense  benefit  is  voluntarily  renounced,  and  finally 
lost,  by  the  companion  of  fools.  Their  instructions,  their  admo- 
nitions, their  reproofs,  their  example,  the  wisdom  which  they  ut- 
ter, and  the  virtue  which  they  exhibit,  he  relinquishes  for  the  pro- 
faneness,  the  sophistry,  the  falsehood,  and  the  profligacy,  of  his 
companions  in  sin.  In  a  word,  he  loses  all  the  good,  and  suffers 
all  the  evil,  which  men  usually  do  to  each  other. 

In  these  several  ways,  sinners  by  frequenting  each  others  com- 
pany advance  faster,  than  they  otherwise  could  advance,  in  ini- 
quity of  every  kind.  Each  encourages  his  companion  in  sin  ;  and 
strengthens  the  heart  and  the  hands  to  every  guilty  perpetration. 

From  their  first  introduction  to  evil  companions,  and  their  first 
resort  to  the  places  where  they  are  found,  endless  multitudes  date 
all  their  predominant  sinful  desires,  all  their  gross  crimes,  and  all 
their  fatal  habits.  In  such  resorts  drunkenness  almost  invariably 
begins  to  form  and  rivet  its  dominion  over  man ;  and  commences 
the  Circean  process  of  changing  him  into  a  brute.  No  man  be- 
comes a  drunkard  in  his  closet.  Companions  are  necessary  to 
begin  this  sin  in  all  men.  At  the  social  board,  and  amidst  gay 
and  festive  companions,  is  the  taste  for  strong  drink  created  ;  and 
here  only  is  it  converted  from  a  relish  into  a  habit.  The  sight 
of  others,  the  example  of  others,  the  sympathy  roused  by  the 
company  of  others,  only,  can  persuade  men  to  drown  property, 
health,  reason,  reputation,  and  hfe,  in  a  cup ;  or  to  bury  con- 
science, duty,  hope,  and  salvation,  in  the  mire  of  swine. 

Here  the  young,  unguarded  victim  first  begins  the  thought,  the 
admission,  the  course  and  the  habit  of /raw^^ ;  and  the  pursuit 
of  those  gratifications,  which  in  his  view  render  the  fraud  neces- 
sary. Here  the  frequency  of  fraud  becomes  the  means  of  sub- 
duing the  reproofs  of  conscience.  Here  in  the  progress  of  sin, 
the  miserable  wretch  of  a  cheat  becomes  a  thief;  and  prepares 
himself  alike  for  the  jail,  the  gibbet,  and  the  world  of  perdition 


SER.  IX.]  FREQENTING  EVIL  COMPANY.  141 

In  these  retreats  profaneness  establishes  her  malignant  domin- 
ion, and  reigns  with  a  fatal  control,  over  all  her  slaves.  Here 
they  learn  with  trembling  lips,  and  an  aching  heart,  the  lisping, 
infantine  oath ;  the  babbling  curse ;  and  the  stammering  prof- 
anation of  that  glorious  and  fearful  name,  Jehovah  our  God. 
No  man  ever  began  to  swear  profanely,  alone.  The  language 
would  be  senseless ;  and  destitute  even  of  that  little  pleasure, 
which  is  found  in  being  profane  before  others.  Like  the  small 
pox,  or  the  plague,  this  disease  of  the  soul  is  derived  from  conta^ 
gion  ;  and  is  caught  only  by  approaching  those  who  are  infected. 

In  the  same  dangerous  recesses,  also,  is  commenced  and  estab- 
lished  the  deplorable  sin  of  lewdness.  Here  pollution  holds  her 
revels  ;  and  sees  before  her  Paphian  shrine  the  young,  the  un« 
thinking,  the  comparatively  innocent,  led  like  the  filleted  Ox  to 
the  slaughter.  Here  the  rude  jest,  the  impure  innuendo,  the  art- 
ful argument,  the  sly  sneer,  the  strong  temptation,  safety  from 
the  danger  of  detection,  and  a  host  of  crimes,  are  contrived,  pro-' 
vided,  encouraged  and  accomplished,  amid  the  countenance  and 
with  the  example  of  numbers,  in  the  sequestered  retirements  of 
darkness  and  sin.  Here  the  simple^  the  young  men  void,  of  under' 
standings  enter  the  by-way  to  hell ;  and  go  down  to  the  chambers 
of  death.  None,  that  go  in  hither,  return  again ;  neither  take 
they  hold  of  the  paths  of  life. 

Amongst  such  companions,  in  a  word,  every  sacred  consider- 
ation is  set  at  naught,  the  Scriptures  are  laughed  to  scorn  ;  and 
Heaven  is  with  supreme  contempt  bartered  for  a  jest.  Hell  at 
the  same  time,  is  here  hazarded  for  a  momentary  gratification  of 
sense  ;  and  God  formally  defied  to  do  the  worst  in  his  power. 
By  such  companions  all  the  influence  of  a  religious  education,  the 
force  of  reproof,  the  supreme  tenderness  of  parental  exhortation, 
the  power  of  preaching,  the  cogency  of  argument,  the  fi-iendly  mo- 
nitions and  awful  alarms  of  conscience,  and  the  infinite  motives 
presented  to  the  mind  in  the  Word  of  God  ;  are  annihilated. 
Here,  serious  reflections  are  gradually  and  finally  withdrawn ;  reS" 
olutions  of  amendment  are  palsied,  and  die :  and  every  intention, 

Vol.  IL  19 


142  THE  DANGER  OF  &c.  [SER.  IX 

and  every  hope,  of  returning  to  God,  escaping  perdition,  and 
obtaining  everlasting  life,  is  buried  in  the  grave. 

The  poor,  unhappy  wretches,  like  the  infatuated  Trojans  on 
the  evening  preceding  the  day  of  their  final  destruction,  assem- 
ble with  all  the  cheerfulness  of  hope,  the  gaiety  of  triumph,  and 
the  songs  and  garlands  of  a  festival,  around  the  engines  of  their 
ruin  ;  and  dance,  and  revel  and  riot,  on  the  brink  of  the  eternal 
grave.  Daily  waxing  ivorse  and  worse,  they  soon  bid  adieu  to 
conscience,  to  remorse  and  to  hope,  and  become  more  and  more 
tainted,  diseased  and  putrid,  till  death  knocks  at  the  door,  and 
summons  them  to  the  judgment.  liOaded  with  sin  ;  without  an 
interest  in  the  Redeemer ;  without  a  prayer  offered,  or  a  wish 
exercised,  for  the  mercy  of  a  forgiving  God  ;  their  spirits  ascend 
to  Him,  who  gave  them,  to  have  every  loorTt,  and  every  secret 
thing,  brought  into  judgment.  Then  all  the  enormous  crimes, 
perpetrated  in  these  hidden  retreats  of  iniquity,  will  be  expo- 
sed in  open  day ;  and  set  in  order  before  their  eyes.  That,  lohich 
has  been  spolten  in  the  ear,  ivill  then  be  proclaimed  on  the  house 
top ;  and  that  which  has  been  perpetrated  in  solitude  and  dark- 
ness, rehearsed  in  the  great  congregation.  The  Judge  of  the 
quick  and  the  dead  will  then  uncover  all  these  recesses  of  sin  ; 
and  their  profaneness,  falsehood,  fraud,  drunkenness  and  lewd- 
ness, pass  in  review  before  the  assembled  Universe. 

How  mightily  will  the  scene  then  be  changed !  When  their 
efforts  at  mutual  corruption,  when  the  crimes  to  which  they  have 
seduced  each  other,  are  set  in  the  light  of  God's  countenance  ;  far 
other  views  will  be  formed  by  them  concerning  their  conduct 
than  those  which  they  so  eagerly  cherished  here.  When,  in  their 
last  account,  they  come  to  recite  the  contrivances,  deceits,  en- 
couragements and  examples,  with  which  they  have  become  mu- 
tual corrupters  ;  and  when  these  things  become  the  foundation  of 
their  final  sentence ;  how  will  they  tremble  and  shrink  at  the  tre- 
mendous prospect  of  the  very  things,  in  which  they  gloried  amid 
the  gaiety,  the  riot,  the  tempest,  of  their  perpetrations  here  be- 
low !  But  all  these  things  will  rise  up  before  them  in  judgment. 
On  them,  the  final  sentence  will  be  founded  ;  and  for  them  they 
will  be  hurried  away  to  the  blackness  of  darkness  forever. 


SERMON  X. 

THE  DANGER  OF  FREQUENTING  EVIL  COMPANY— Sermon  II. 

Proverbs  xiii.  30. 
But  a  companion  of  fools  shall  be  destroyed. 

In  the  preceding  discourse,  after  explaining  the  text,  I  derived 
from  it  the  following  Doctrine  : 

1/c,  who  frequents  the  company  of  Sinners^  is  in  danger  of 
eternal  destruction. 

This  doctrine  I  then  illustrated  by  various  considerations. 

I  will  now  conclude  the  discourse  with  some  practical 

PwEMARKS, 

1  St.  From  these  observations  we  learn,  that  sinful  companions 
are  real  and  dangerous  enemies. 

They  profess,  indeed,  and  often  with  fair  pretences,  strong 
declarations,  and  many  seeming  acts  of  goodwill,  to  be  sincere 
and  ardent  friends  to  those,  whom  they  corrupt  and  destroy. 
Nay  they  are  frequently,  and  in  an  advanced  stage  of  degenera- 
cy always,  believed  to  be  the  faithful  and  the  only  friends  of 
the  victim.  Their  efforts  to  please  are  often  more  direct,  open, 
active  and  persuasive,  than  those  of  real  friends.  A  studied  and 
specious  accordance  with  the  passions,  wishes  and  purposes,  of 
those,  whom  they  ensnare,  invests  them  with  a  peculiarly  pleas- 
ing and  desirable  character,  to  the  inexperienced  and  ignorant 
eye  of  every  youth.  Where  real  friends  advise,  they  only  accord. 
Where  real  friends  alarm,  they  sooth.  Where  real  friends  re- 
ptove,  they  flatter.    And  thus,  where  real  friends  become  dread- 


144  THE  DANGER  OF  [SER.  X. 

ed,  and  in  the  end  hated,  they  become  endeared,  dehghtful, 
and  at  last  necessary  to  the  apprehended  good  of  those,  whom 
they  destroy. 

All  this,  however  strange  it  may  seem  at  the  first  view,  is  easily 
explicable.  Every  vicious  person,  however  proud  and  vain  he  may 
be,  is  secretly  conscious  that  he  is  destitute  of  any  real  worth  ;  and 
feels,  that  his  claims  either  to  respect  or  affection,  are  at  the  best 
doubtful,  and  will  be  questioned.  To  these  claims,  therefore,  he 
is  unwilling  to  trust,  for  reputation,  good  will,  or  good  offices. 
If  he  is  to  have  friends,  therefore,  or  admirers  ;  he  knows,  that 
he  must  make  them.  Satisfied,  that  they  will  not  follow  hiniy 
he  determines  to  follow  them.  The  esteem  and  attachment,  which 
he  cannot  command,  he  resolves  to  allure.  The  kind  offices, 
which  he  cannot  claim,  he  labours  to  win.  For  worth,  which 
he  has  not,  he  endeavors  to  substitute  assiduous  civihty  ;  for  ami- 
ableness,  a  pleasing  deportment ;  and  for  usefulness,  flattery. 
Thus,  although  he  cannot  become  estimable,  he  supplies,  and 
often  more  than  supplies,  the  deficiency  by  the  diligence  with 
which  he  seeks  to  promote  the  pleasure,  encourage  the  hopes, 
awaken  the  vanity,  foster  the  wishes,  and  promote  the  purposes, 
of  those  to  whom  he  attaches  himself.  In  this  manner  he  is  but 
too  commonly  successful ;  and  finds  the  subject  of  his  imposi- 
tion willing  to  mistake  agreeableness  for  worth,  and  sedulity  for 
friendship.  Men  of  real  worth,  on  the  contrary,  usually  expect 
that  their  friendship  will  be  coveted,  and  their  good  offices  sought^ 
They  know  the  value  of  these  things ;  and  naturally  expect  that 
it  will  be  known  by  others.  Their  friendship  is  therefore  rarely 
ofiered ;  and,  if  obtained  at  all,  is  almost  always  solicited. 

Let  it  not  be  supposed,  that,  because  I  mention  this  fact,  I 
therefore  approve  of  the  conduct.  In  many  cases  it  is  certainly 
unhappy.  Not  a  small  number  of  youths  have  in  all  probabihty 
been  ruined,  who  might  have  been  saved,  had  wisdom  and  vir- 
tue taken  them  seasonably  by  the  hand,  and  not  left  them  to  be 
practised  upon  by  the  arts  of  cunning,  and  profligacy. 

But  real  friends  are  those,  who,  whether  pleasing  or  unpleas^ 
ing,  design,  and  do,  us  real  good.     Let  me  exhort  the  youths  in 


SER.  X.]  FREQUENTING  EVIL  COMPANY.  145 

this  congregation  to  remember,  and  to  feel,  this  interesting  truth. 
Who  else  can  deserve  the  name  of  friends  ?  What  else  can  be  the 
value  of  friendship  ?  But  these  wicked  companions,  instead  of 
seeking  your  good,  aim  at  your  ruin.  When,  therefore,  they 
profess  themselves  your  friends ;  the  profession  is  false  and  hol- 
low.  It  is  true  indeed,  that  they  are  destroying  themselves^  at 
the  same  time.  But  in  what  respect  will  their  destruction  bene- 
fit you  ?  Will  their  sins  render  yours  less  guilty  ?  Will  their  per- 
dition render  yours  less  dreadful  ?  Will  it  be  any  consolation  to 
you  in  the  regions  of  despair,  that  those,  who  were  here  your 
companions  in  crimes,  are  there  your  companions  in  misery  ? 

The  man,  who  in  this  world  voluntarily  destroys,  or  even  injures, 
any  valuable  interest  of  his  neighbour,  is  esteemed  by  mankind, 
and  by  you  as  truly  as  by  others,  an  enemy.  These  persons  aim 
at  a  far  more  comprehensive  injury ;  and  accomplish  an  infi- 
nitely wider  ruin  ;  with  the  scythe  of  death  they  cut  down  soul 
and  body,  life  and  immortality  ;  and  leave  nothing  behind. 

2dly.  What  an  image  does  a  company  of  sinners,  thus  resor- 
ting together,  present  to  a  sober  mind  ! 

Were  prophets  of  God,  were  even  honest  historians,  to  de- 
scribe with  a  faithful  hand  the  scenes  of  iniquity  ;  were  they 
faithfully  to  pourtray  the  characters,  and  relate  the  actions,  which 
take  place  in  the  dark  retreats,  in  which  these  persons  customarily 
assemble ;  what,  think  you,  would  be  the  appearance  of  the  por- 
trait ?  Unfortunately  for  the  young,  the  gay,  the  giddy,  no  such 
historians  are  found,  to  present  to  them  this  dreadful  picture,  as 
a  solemn  annunciation  of  what  they  will  one  day  become  by  fre- 
quenting evil  company  ;  as  a  powerful  antidote  to  all  the  com- 
munications and  examples,  the  arts  and  treacheries,  by  which 
they  are  so  often  seduced.  From  analogy  and  conjecture  only, 
can  sober  men,  in  ordinary  circumstances,  learn  the  nature  of 
those  transactions,  which  in  many  instances  take  place  in  these 
recesses  of  iniquity. 

But  even  analogy  and  conjecture,  when  joined  with  such  facts, 
as  could  not  escape  detection,  furnish  sufficient  information  con- 
cerning the  character  and  conduct  of  these  men  to  alarm  the 


146  THE  DANGER  OF  [SER.  X. 

Stoutest  heart,  and  daunt  the  firmest  eye,  of  the  young  adven- 
turer in  sin  ;  if  he  has  not  aheady  swallowed  the  bait,  and  been 
so  effectually  fastened  by  the  barb,  as  to  be  beyond  the  hope  of 
escaping. 

Who  are  the 2}crso?is,  that  thus  consort  together?  They  are 
enemies  to  God,  enemies  to  mankind,  enemies  to  each  other, 
and  enemies  to  themselves.  It  is  true,  they  profess  to  be  mutual 
friends.  But  Judas  was  not  less  an  enemy  to  Christ,  because  he 
approached  him  with  a  kiss.  Their  real  character  is  seen  in  the 
fact,  that  they  seek  each  others  ruin.  They  are  all  gross  sinners, 
except  such  young,  new,  unpractised  victims,  as  they  have  sedu- 
ced to  their  company  for  the  purpose  of  destroying  them  forever. 
They  have  renounced  virtue,  principle,  conscience  and  reputa- 
tion ;  and  have  given  themselves  up  to  passion  and  appetite,  to 
sense  and  sin.     _ 

What  is  the  jjlace,  in  which  they  have  assembled  ?  It  is  a  soli- 
tude, from  which  every  human  foot  is  excluded,  beside  that  of 
themselves,  and  that  of  the  pander  by  whom  all  the  convenien- 
ces of  iniquity  are  provided  to  their  hand  :  a  cell,  from  which  the 
eye  of  their  own  parents,  of  all  virtuous,  of  all  sober,  nay  of  all 
decent,  men  is  shut  out :  an  outer  chamber  of  perdition;  where 
themselves  train  up  each  other  for  final  ruin,  and  where,  if  they 
could  open  their  eyes,  they  would  see  a  collection  of  fiends  hov- 
ering over  them,  and  hailing  with  a  malignant  smile  their  profli- 
gacy, and  their  approaching  destruction. 

What  is  the  season,  at  which  they  are  assembled  ?  It  is  the 
dark  and  silent  hour  of  temptation  :  the  season,  when  midnight 
veils  their  crimes  from  all  but  the  eye  of  God  ;  when  imagination 
is  on  fire  ;  when  passion  is  excited  to  delirium  ;  when  conscience 
is  asleep  ;  and  when  the  sense  of  safety  from  detection  embol- 
dens even  the  timid  heart  of  the  novice  to  every  perpetration. 

What  are  the  purposes,  for  which  they  are  gathered  .^  To  give 
temptation  its  most  alluring  form,  its  most  seductive  language, 
and  its  most  fatal  efiicacy ;  to  perpetrate  crimes,  which  shrink 
from  the  eye  of  day  ;  to  make  rebellion  against  their  Maker  con- 
venient, safe  and  pleasant ;  to  blot  out  of  remembrance  all  mo- 


SER.  X.]  FREQUENTING  EVIL  COMPANY.  147 

lives  to  repentance  and  reformation  ;  to  extinguish  mutually, 
and  finally,  the  hope  of  heaven  ;  and  to  help  each  other  onward 
towards  hell. 

What  is  the  language^  which  is  here  uttered  ?  It  is  the  obscene 
jest ;  the  tainted  narrative  of  pollution  ;  the  lewd  song  ;  the  false 
recital ;  the  hypocritical  profession ;  the  treacherous  promise ;  the 
impious  oath  ;  the  malignant  curse ;  and  the  tremendous  blas- 
phemy. In  a  word,  it  is  the  language  of  hell ;  learned,  and  prac- 
tised, against  their  arrival  at  that  world  of  sin. 

What  are  the  practices^  which  are  found  in  these  strong  holds 
of  Satan  ?  These  are  endlessly  various,  as  well  as  enormously 
guilty  :  for  here  iniquitt/  is  drunk  like  ivater.  Here  are  practised 
all  the  frauds  of  the  gaming-table,  amid  that  host  of  vices  by 
which  it  is  regularly  surrounded  :  and  art  and  trick  here  rob  the 
silly  novice  of  his  property  as  effectually,  as  the  pistol  or  the  dag- 
ger. Here  the  theft  and  the  robbery  are  projected,  and  matured. 
Here  the  swindler  is  formed,  and  educated  ;  the  forgery  nicely 
finished,  so  as  to  escape  the  most  critical  eye  ;  the  coin  falsified  •, 
the  man  changed  into  a  brute  by  drunkenness  ;  and  the  soul  by 
a  course  of  impurity  converted  into  a  Sodotn. 

What  is  their  end  ?  Poverty,  shame  and  ruin,  in  this  world  ; 
death  without  hope,  judgment  without  mercy,  and  misery  with- 
out mixture  or  termination,  in  that  which  is  to  come. 

3dly.  liet  me  urge  those^  who  hear  me ^  to  shun  evil  companions. 

If  God  is  true  ;  they  will  ruin  you  forever.  That  good  should 
be  derived  from  them  is  impossible.  That  immense  evil  will  be, 
is  certain.  Every  injury  is  to  be  regularly  expected  from  them  ; 
and  every  means  of  perdition  is  continually  employed  by  them 
with  a  sure  and  dreadful  efficacy.  In  their  company  temptations 
are  contrived  and  presented,  which  the  young,  ignorant  and  in- 
experienced, victims  of  their  influence  would  elsewhere  never 
have  found  ;  and  sins  proposed  and  committed,  of  which  else- 
where they  never  would  have  formed  a  conception.  Hence  they 
contract,  here,  a  pollution,  a  debasement,  a  degeneracy,  a  prep- 
aration for  eternal  death,  which  elsewhere  they  would  finally 
have  escaped. 


148  THE  DANGER  OF  [SER,  X. 

To  Youths,  let  it  be  remembered,  these  observations  are  pecul- 
iarly applicable.  Youth  is  the  most  innocent,  comparatively  the 
safest,  and  clearly  the  best,  season  of  human  life  for  all  religious 
purposes;  and  for  the  consummation  of  them  all,  the  attainment 
of  endless  glory.  But  youths  are  more  inexperienced,  more  un- 
guarded, more  thoughtless  of  danger,  and  of  course  more  natur- 
ally exposed  to  corruption  from  without,  than  men  of  superiour 
years  and  discretion.  Youths  discern  less  readily,  less  clearly, 
and  less  perfectly,  the  character  and  the  designs  of  those  with 
whom  they  consort.  To  the  arts  of  seduction  they  are  chiefly 
strangers.  Rarely  do  they  suspect  those  around  them,  particu- 
larly those  who  wear  a  plausible  appearance,  and  make  a  fair 
profession.  They  naturally  believe  in  the  sincerity  of  others,  be- 
cause they  are  themselves  sincere  :  and,  as  they  design  nothing 
but  what  is  kind  and  well-meant,  they  easily  believe  the  designs 
of  others  to  be  of  the  same  nature.  Particularly  the  pleasant- 
ness, civility,  apparent  good-will,  and  agreeable  flattery,  of  their 
companions  are  readily  admitted  by  them  as  proofs  of  friendly 
and  upright  intentions. 

Accordingly,  Solomon  in  choosing  his  example,  to  prove  the 
easiness,  power  and  certain  success,  of  seduction,  points  us  to  a 
Youth.  "  I  beheld,"  says  he,  "  among  the  simple  ones,  I  discov= 
ered  among  the  youths,  a  young  man  void  of  understanding,  pas- 
sing  the  street  by  the  corner  ;  and  he  went  the  way  to  her  house. 
And  behold,  there  met  him  a  woman,  with  the  attire  of  an  harlot, 
and  subtle  of  heart.  With  her  much  fair  speech  she  caused  him 
to  yield  :  with  the  flattery  of  her  lips,  she  forced  him.  He  goeth 
after  her,  straightway,  as  an  ox  goeth  to  the  slaughter,  or  a  fool 
to  the  correction  of  the  stocks.  Till  a  dart  strike  through  his 
liver :  as  a  bird  hasteth  to  the  snare  of  the  fowler,  and  knoweth 
not  that  it  is  for  his  life." 

To  this  scheme  his  instructions  are  generally  and  intentionally 
conformed  throughout  the  book  of  Proverbs  ;  which  he  says  was 
written,  to  give  subtlety  to  the  sim-ple^  and  to  the  young  man  hnowh 
edge  and,  discretion. 


SEE.  X.]  FREQUENTING  EVIL  COMPANY.  149 

Youths,  then,  are  in  the  sight  of  God  thus  in  danger  from  evil 
companions.  To  this  congregation,  so  generally  composed  of 
such  as  are  young,  these  considerations  come  home  with  supreme 
energy  ;  and  by  every  youth  present,  ought  to  be  regarded  as  of 
all  possible  importance. 

In  these  discourses  you  have  heard  the  dangers  of  evil  company 
briefly  explained,  and  the  miserable  consequences  of  frequenting 
the  retreats  where  they  are  found.  By  the  mouth  of  God  him- 
self, you  have  been  taught,  that  The  companion  of  fools  shall  be 
destroyed.  He  is  the  best  of  all  friends  ;  the  wisest,  the  most 
sincere,  the  most  affectionate,  the  most  faithful.  With  infinite 
tenderness  he  loves  your  souls,  and  seeks  your  eternal  well-being. 
Prompted  by  his  unlimited  benevolence,  and  to  promote  this  in- 
estimable object,  he  wrote  for  you  the  salutary,  the  indispensable, 
admonition  in  the  text.  He  cannot  but  know,  he  cannot  but  de- 
clare, that,  and  that  only,  which  is  true.  His  omniscient  eye, 
glancing  at  once  with  an  intuitive  survey  over  all  the  nations  of 
the  earth,  and  discerning  the  nature  of  all  human  conduct,  saw 
with  perfect  certainty  the  tendency  of  frequenting  evil  company ; 
its  malignant  influence  ;  and  its  dreadful  consequences.  To 
warn  and  to  save  you,  he  has  caused  this  affecting  declaration  to 
be  written  in  the  Scriptures  of  truth ;  and  to  be  brought  out  this 
day,  in  his  holy  place  for  your  instruction  and  safety.  Hear  his 
voice,  I  beseech  you  ;  and,  while  you  hear,  obey. 

To  this  awful  voice  Experience  joins  her  suffrage  ;  and  Rea- 
son, hers.  All  mankind,  who  have  spoken  on  this  subject,  have 
spoken  only  in  the  same  manner.  The  danger,  the  ruin,  of  evil 
companions  have  engaged  the  attention  of  thinking  men  in  every 
country,  and  in  every  age.  "  Evil  communications,"  said  a 
Heathen  poet  and  philosopher,  "  corrupt  good  manners."  "Evil 
communications  corrupt  good  manners,"  says  the  eternal  God  ; 
condescending  for  wise  reasons  to  adopt  this  just  and  interesting 
declaration  into  the  Canon  of  his  word  ;  with  an  especial  design, 
perhaps,  to  show  how  perfectly  accordant  the  dictates  of  sober 
experience  and  rectified  reason  are  with  his  own  truth. 

Vol.  n.  20 


i  50  THE  DANGER  OF  [SER.  X, 

Can  a  truth  so  uttered,  so  evidenced,  fail  of  being  embraced 
by  you  ?  Can  you  hesitate  for  a  moment  to  shun  a  danger  so 
great,  an  evil  so  pernicious  ?  Why  would  you  shun  a  viper  ? 
You  reply,  "■  because  his  bite  is  poisonous  and  fatal."  A  sinful 
companion  is  infinitely  more  venomous  and  deadly.  Why  would 
you  avoid  a  precipice  ?  "  Because,"  you  answer,  "  a  single  heed- 
less step  might  hurry  me  to  destruction."  To  a  destruction  more 
sure,  as  being  less  dreaded,  and  infinitely  more  complete,  you 
will  be  hurried  by  evil  companions.  Fly  them,  therefore,  with 
more  anxiety,  than  you  would  fly  from  a  viper.  Tremble,  when- 
ever you  approach  them,  with  more  dread  than  you  experience, 
when  you  approach  a  precipice.  These  enemies  can  destroy 
your  bodies  only  :  those  will  destroy  your  souls.  Flee  from  them, 
therefore,  not  as  you  would  flee  from  a  temporal  enemy,  but  as 
you  would  flee  from  perdition,  and  escape  from  hell.  To  hell,  to 
perdition,  evil  companions,  if  you  leave  them  not,  will  soon  con- 
duct you. 

Let  me  especially  warn  you  of  a  danger  from  this  source,  of 
which  nothing,  hitherto  said  in  these  discourses,  will  make  you 
aware,  and  which,  nevertheless,  you  ought  peculiarly  to  dread. 
The  persons,  who  will  become  your  first  tempters,  will  very  im- 
perfectly sustain  the  character  which  I  have  given  of  evil  com- 
panions. Generally,  they  will  be  like  yourselves  ;  so  far,  at  least, 
as  you  will  perceive;  will  sustain  a  fair  reputation  ;  will  be  free 
from  any  gross  faults ;  and  will  intend,  perhaps  as  little  as  your- 
selves, to  accomplish  any  part  of  this  work  of  temptation  and 
ruin.  They  will  only  love  pleasure,  better  than  business ;  and  sin, 
better  than  duty  ;  as  you,  possibly,  may  do  even  more  than  they^ 
From  such  persons  you  will  apprehend  no  evil ;  and  they  proba- 
bly will  intend  none.  Perhaps  they  may  have  more  to  appre- 
hend from  you^  than  you  from  them.  But,  wherever  this  charac- 
ter exists,  all,  in  whom  it  is  found,  are  in  danger  5  and  that  the 
more,  because  the  danger  is  wholly  unsuspected.  The  begin- 
nings of  sin  are  peculiarly  to  be  dreaded,  because  the  evil  is  then 
unseen  ;  and  peculiarly  to  be  watched,  because  it  may  be  easily 
and  certainly  avoided.  The  first  thing,  commonly  done  in  this 
case,  is  to  neglect  the  proper  studies  of  the  day  ;  and  yield  it  up, 


SER.  X.]  FREQUENTING  EVIL  COMPANY.  161 

or  a  part  of  it  to  idleness,  sport,  and  useless  conversation.  Even 
this  is  ordinarily  done,  at  first,  with  some  sincere  intentions  not  to 
do  it  again.  But  the  interview  is  too  pleasant,  not  to  be  repea- 
ted ;  and  at  every  repetition  becomes  more  pleasant.  At  every 
repetition,  also,  the  resolutions  of  not  repeating  it  again  become 
weaker ;  till  they  cease  to  be  formed  at  all :  and  the  disposition 
to  study  declines,  till  it  finally  vanishes.  Idleness,  amusement 
and  dissipation,  have  now  taken  possession  of  the  mind  ;  and  by 
insensible  degrees  established  their  dominion.  The  twinges  of 
conscience  have  become  less  and  less  painful,  and  more  and  more 
easily  resisted.  The  reproofs  of  parents  and  instructors,  having 
been  sustained  a  few  times,  become  more  easily  sustained.  Ex- 
cuses, in  the  mean  time,  are  so  often  necessary,  and  so  often  de- 
vised, that  the  mind  becomes  ingenious  and  hackneyed  in  the  bu- 
siness of  devising  them ;  and,  although  often  suspected,  have 
been  so  frequently  admitted,  that  they  are  considered  as  a  suffi- 
cient source  of  safety  in  future  difficulties  and  dangers.  The 
loss  of  reputation,  in  the  mean  time,  is  so  gradual,  as  at  no  par- 
ticular period  to  awaken  any  serious  pain  ;  or  to  excite  even  a 
distant  apprehension  that  it  may  ever  be  finally  lost.  In  this 
manner  such  companions  proceed,  and  have  always  proceeded, 
from  idleness,  trifling  conversation,  a  waste  of  time,  the  abuse  of 
talents,  and  the  sacrifice  of  privileges,  to  obscenity  -,  gaming ; 
profaneness  ;  a  general  course  of  irreligion  ;  a  general  desertion 
of  their  proper  business,  and  duty  ;  frequently,  to  excessive  drink- 
ing ;  always,  to  the  ruin  of  their  character ;  and,  almost  alvvays, 
to  the  ruin  of  their  souls. 

The  commencement  of  this  course  is,  therefore,  the  thing, 
which  is  to  be  peculiarly  shunned  by  the  youths  in  this  house. 
Their  danger  chiefly  hes  where  they  apprehend  no  danger. 
Their  ruin  commences,  where  they  feel  themselves  safe.  Nei- 
ther intends  to  corrupt,  nor  to  be  corrupted  ;  yet  both,  yet  afl, 
are  corrupted,  and  corruptors.  Dread,  therefore,  the  first  ap- 
proaches of  idleness  ;  of  keeping  company  with  the  idle  ;  of 
losing  the  hours  of  study  ;  of  trifling,  and  dissipation  ;  as  a  gulf 
to  which  there  is  no  bottom,  and  out  of  which,  if  you  fall,  you 
will  never  rise  again. 


152  THE  DANGER  OF  [SER.  X. 

Almost  every  youth,  who  has  been  ruined  in  this  seminary, 
within  my  knowledge,  has  been  ruined  in  this  manner.     I  speak 
not  of  those,  who  were  ruined   at  home ;  who  entered  these 
walls,  tainted  with  vice ;  and,  spreading  their  infection  through 
the  better  and  healthier  minds  of  those  around  them,  became 
nuisances  to  the  institution  ;  a  blast  to  the  hopes  of  parents ; 
and  a  curse  to  their  children.     These  persons  have  at  times 
brought  with  them,  in  different  gradations,  the  character,  the 
arts  and  the  corruptions,  mentioned  in  the  preceding  discourse  ; 
and,  settling  here  in  unsuspected  silence,  blighted  the  harvest  of 
worth,  apparently  advancing  towards  full  maturity.     I  speak  of 
such  youths,  as  have  come  hither  with  no  peculiar  corruption  ; 
with  a  reputable  freedom  from  vice;  with  fair  hopes  ;  and  with 
honourable  designs.     Of  these,  some  have  found,  here,  means 
and  motives,  which  have  operated  to  their  ruin.     But  probably 
not  more  than  one,   in  one  hundred  of  those  who  have  been  de- 
stroyed, has  accomplished  the  destruction  for  himself.     Left  to 
themselves,  unsolicited  and  unseduced  by  others,  the  ninety-nine 
would,  at  their  return  home,  have  in  all  probability  become  the 
joy  of  their  parents,  and  blessings  to  mankind.     But  here,  where 
so  many  youths  assemble,  and  where  some  of  course  will  be  of  a 
vicious  character,  they  became  the  prey  of  evil  companions  ;  and 
of  the  sophistry,  the  arts,  and  the  tricks,  which  I  have  described. 
Let  it  be  remembered,  that  I  have  been  almost  thirty  years  a  res- 
ident in  this  seminary  ;  that  I  entered  it,  when  a  child  ;  and  that 
I  continued  in  it  without  interruption  twelve  years  :  and  that  a 
great  part  of  the  modes  of  corruption,  mentioned  in  these  dis- 
courses, I  have  personally  seen  and  heard.     Nay,  not  a  small 
number  of  them  have  been  practised  upon  me.     I  can,  therefore, 
speak  with  certainty,  as  well  as  with  strong  feelings,  on  this  sub- 
ject.    Every  one  of  you  may  rest  assured,  that  I  have  not  mista- 
ken the  case,  nor  any  part  of  it ;  and  that  the  representation, 
which  I  have  made,  is  exactly  true,  as  well  as  infinitely  important. 
Shun  therefore,  every  one  of  you,  this  course  of  danger  and 
mischief.     Especially  shun,  because  you  are  in  peculiar  danger 
from  them,  and  because  resistance  here  will  usually  prove  a  final 
victory,  the  first  approaches  of  temptation  ;  the  first  appearances 


SER.  X.]  FREQUENTING  EVIL  COMPANY.  153 

of  sin  ;  the  first  obtrusions  of  evil  companions  ;  the  first  sacrifice 
of  your  own  time  ;  the  first  neglect  of  your  daily  studies  ;  the 
first  solicitations  to  any  improper  conduct ;  and  the  civilities, 
flatteries  and  persuasion,  with  which  they  will  be  attended. 
Keep  your  hours  of  study  sacred  to  yourselves  :  and  with  invin- 
cible firmness  preclude  every  stranger  from  intruding  upon  you  in 
those  hours,  which  God  has  made  sacred. 

Should  you  be  solicited  to  visit  the  haunts  of  sinful  pleasure ;  of 
gaming,  profaneness,  drinking,  and  obscenity  ;  consider  the  soli- 
citor as  the  enemy  of  your  peace  ;  who,  if  not  decisively  resis- 
ted, will  rob  you  of  your  reputation,  blast  your  hopes  of  improve- 
ment, wound  your  conscience,  pollute  your  souls,  and  shut  you 
out  of  heaven.  With  persons  of  this  character  keep  no  terms. 
Their  company  is  baleful :  their  solicitations  are  the  poison  of 
asps :  and  every  accommodation  with  them,  is  only  a  comprom- 
ise for  your  destruction. 

4thly.  How  anxiously  ought  parents  to  prevent  their  children 
from  frequenting  evil  company  ! 

Parents  are  guardians  of  their  children,  appointed  by  God 
himself.  The  trust  is  supremely  solemn  and  important  ;  and  the 
thing  entrusted  of  pre-eminent  value.  What  earthly  object  is 
more  precious  than  children  ?  How  willingly,  how  patiently,  how 
perseveringly,  with  what  unbroken,  unwearied  affection,  care  and 
anxiety,  do  parents  labour  to  promote  the  safety  and  prosperity 
of  their  beloved  offspring  ?  How  cheerfully  do  they  give  up  their 
own  gratifications,  and  sacrifice  their  ease,  convenience  and 
comfort  ?  What  does  all  this  prove  ?  Their  intense  love  to  this 
favourite  object.  For  what  is  all  this  done  and  suffered  ?  That 
the  well-being  of  their  children  may  be  secured. 

But,  if  this  be  the  great  end,  aimed  at  in  all  these  exertions; 
they  ought  certainly  to  be  directed  to  their  true  well-being,  their 
everlasting  good.  To  provide  for  them  the  pleasures  of  this 
Vi^orld  ;  to  gratify  their  pride,  avarice  and  sensuality  ;  to  heap  up 
for  them  enjoyments,  which  at  the  end  of  an  idle,  empty,  momen- 
tary life  will  vanish  forever  ;  and  to  make  no  efforts  for  their  end- 
less happiness  in  the  future  world  ;  to  take  such  vast  pains  to 


154  THE  DANGER  OF,  &c.  [SER.  X. 

pamper  their  bodies,  and  to  neglect  their  souls,  as  aliens  and  out- 
casts :  is  folly  supreme  and  immeasurable. 

But  this  endless  happiness  evil  companions  will  prevent.  The 
very  hope  of  immortal  life  they  will  destroy  forever.  From  this 
incomprehensible  danger,  then,  this  final  ruin,  let  these  affection- 
ate, these  divinely  appointed,  guardians  secure  their  beloved  off- 
spring ;  whatever  efforts  or  anxiety  it  may  cost.  Let  no  parent 
say,  that  he  cannot  prevent  his  children  from  consorting  with  such 
companions.  Unquestionably  they  may  be  powerfully  allured 
by  them  ;  nay,  they  may  have  already  become  strongly  attached 
to  them.  They  may  be  deaf  to  parental  remonstrance.  They 
may  artfully  elude  inspection.  They  may  obstinately  resist  au- 
thority. But  would  any,  would  all  these  difficulties  persuade  a 
parent  to  yield  them  up  to  temporal  destruction  ?  Were  it  in  his 
power,  would  he  not  preserve  them  from  suicide ;  whatever  ex- 
ertions, whatever  sacrifices,  it  might  cost  ?  How  much  more  wil- 
lingly, and  perseveringly,  ought  he  to  undergo  any  labour,  and 
make  any  sacrifice,  to  save  a  child  from  perdition  ? 

Ordinarily,  however,  the  case  is  far  from  being  attended  with  the 
difficulties  here  supposed.  Let  the  parents  begin  their  active 
government  of  their  children  with  an  universal  determination  to 
know,  at  all  times  where,  and  with  whom,  their  children  are  ; 
and  suffer  them  to  frequent  no  places,  and  consort  with  no  com- 
pany, which  they  themselves  do  not  approve,  nor  without  their 
permission.  Let  them  warn  their  children  affectionately,  and 
from  the  beginning,  of  the  immense  danger  always  found,  and 
the  fatal  evils  regularly  suffered,  by  those  who  are  companions  of 
the  wicked.  Let  them  allure  to  their  own  houses  such  compan- 
ions for  their  children,  as  will  be  at  once  agreeable  and  safe. 
Let  them  make  their  own  company  and  conversation  easy  and 
inviting  ;  and  their  fireside  cheerful  and  pleasant ;  and  let  them 
daily  ask  God  to  preserve  their  children,  and  crown  their  own  la- 
bours in  educating  them  for  his  service  with  success.  If  they 
faithfully  perform  these  duties  ;  they  will  ordinarily  find  their  task 
easy  ;  their  children  safe  ;  their  consciences  satisfied  ;  and  their 
hopes  continually  brighter,  and  brighter,  of  seeing  their  family 
united  forever  in  the  enjoyment  of  immortal  life. 


SERMON  XL 

THE  DUTY  OF  REMEMBERING  THE  CREATOR  IN  YOUTH— Sermon  L 
ECCLESIASTES    xii.    1. 

Remember  now  thy  Creator  in  the  days  of  thy  youth :  while 
the  evil  days  come  not,  nor  the  years  draw  nigh,  when  thou  shalt 
say,  "  /  have  no  pleasure  in  them.'''' 

The  writer  of  this  book  was,  as  you  know,  distinguished  above 
all  men  for  his  wisdom,  and  peculiarly  for  his  knowledge  of  the 
character,  and  business,  of  men.  At  the  time  when  it  was  writ- 
ten, he  was  advanced  in  years  ;  and  from  his  youth  had  with  a 
keen  and  scrutinizing  eye,  watched  the  character  of  mankind, 
and  marked  carefully  the  advantages,  which  accompany  a  vir- 
tuous life,  and  the  evils,  which  attend  a  sinful  one  ;  and  had  de- 
rived from  this  course  of  observation  a  collection  of  the  best 
maxims  for  the  regulation  of  human  conduct,  of  which  mankind 
have  ever  heard.  The  attention  of  this  great  man  was  especially 
directed  to  youth  ;  probably  because  he  knew  the  importance  of 
that  period.  He  had  seen  in  innumerable  instances,  that  the  fu- 
ture character  chiefly  depended  on  the  instructions  given,  and 
the  habits  established,  in  the  morning  of  life.  His  views  of  this 
subject  he  has  completely  expressed  in  a  single  sentence  :  "Train 
up  a  child  in  the  way  he  should  go  ;  and  when  he  is  old  he  will 
not  depart  from  it."  Hence,  he  directed  his  efforts  pecuHarly  to 
the  reformation  of  youth  ;  and,  as  he  informs  us,  wrote  the  book 
of  Proverbs,  or  important  and  pithy  moral  precepts,  to  give  the 
young  man  knowledge  and  discretion.  The  wisdom  and  benevo- 
lence of  such  a  design  need  no  illustration  ;  and  the  book,  in 
which  it  is  here  executed,  is  without  a  rival. 


156  THE  DUTY  OF  REMEMBERING  [SER.  XI. 

To  the  instructions  of  such  a  man  thus  employed,  every  youth 
is  bound  by  every  obligation  to  listen  with  gratitude,  veneration, 
and  faithful  obedience.  To  these  high  and  solemn  sanctions, 
furnished  by  the  character  of  the  writer,  and  to  the  inestimable 
value  of  the  instructions  themselves,  is  added  the  seal  of  inspi- 
ration ;  the  decision  of  God,  the  only  wise,  and  the  only  good. 

In  the  book  of  Ecclesiastes  this  great  man  forgot  not  his  favor- 
ite object ;  but,  while  investigating  subjects,  mysterious  in  their 
nature,  incomprehensible  in  their  extent,  and  immeasurable  in 
their  importance,  he  turned  aside,  not  unfrequently,  to  resume 
the  direct  instruction  of  youth,  and  to  promote  in  the  most  effica- 
cious manner  their  wisdom  and  piety.  In  this  chapter  particular- 
ly, he  shows  us,  that  the  book  of  Ecclesiastes,  as  well  as  that  of 
Proverbs,  was  written,  primarily,  for  the  young.  This  chapter 
is  what,  in  the  language  of  writers  of  sermons,  would  be  called 
the  practical  application,  or  improvement,  of  the  whole  dis- 
course. It  commences  with  the  text ;  and  in  this  manner  shews, 
that  the  writer  had  all  along  aimed  at  the  benefit  of  this  class  of 
mankind,  as  a  primary  object  in  this  book,  as  well  as  that  of  Pro- 
verbs. While  he  has  here  left  a  noble  example  to  other  moral 
instructors,  and  taught  them  to  direct  their  own  labours,  exten- 
sively, towards  the  same  object,  he  has  also  laid  the  foundation  of 
the  strongest  claims  upon  the  affection,  and  respect,  of  those, 
whom  he  has  thus  made  his  pupils.  There  is  something  pecu- 
liarly edifying  as  well  as  delightful,  in  seeing  a  man  so  pre-emi- 
nent in  wisdom,  power,  splendour  and  fame,  as  Solomon,  and  so 
occupied  by  the  complicated  business  of  a  great  empire,  making 
the  instruction,  virtue  and  happiness,  of  the  young  a  primary  ob- 
ject of  his  thoughts,  and  the  primary  purpose  of  his  writings.  It 
is,  still,  a  much  more  interesting  theme  of  our  recollection,  that 
the  God  of  the  spirits  of  all  flesh  has  been  pleased,  in  his  own 
most  holy  Word,  to  pursue  the  same  purpose  ;  to  make  youth  a 
peculiar  object  of  his  gracious  attention  ;  to  raise  up  for  them  in 
his  Providence  so  able  an  Instructor ;  and,  agreeably  to  his  per- 
fect wisdom,  to  employ  him  in  communicating  these  invaluable 
lessons. 


SER.  XI.]  THE  CREATOR  IN  YOUTH.  157 

In  the  text  young  persons  are  required  to  rememher  their  Cre- 
ator in  the  days  of  their  youth  ,•  and  before  the  arrival  of  those 
future  periods  of  Ufe,  which  are  here  justly  styled  evil  days,  both 
because  the  enjoyments  of  this  life  are  greatly  diminished,  and  be- 
cause they  are  peculiarly  unfavourable  seasons  for  securing  the 
enjoyments  of  a  better  life.  It  is  my  intention  in  discoursing  upon 
these  words, 

I.  To  explain  the  Duty,  which  is  here  enjoined : 

II.  To  suggest  several  Inducements  to  the  performance  of  it : 
and 

III.  To  mention  several  Reasons,  which  usually  prevent  it  from 
being  performed. 

I.  I  shall  endeavour  summarily  to  explain  this  Duty. 

To  remember  our  Creator  is, 

1st.   To  make  him  frequently  an  object  of  our  thoughts. 

"  The  wicked,"  says  David,  "  through  the  pride  of  his  counte- 
nance will  not  seek  after  God  :  God  is  not  in  all  his  thoughts." 
The  character  of  the  righteous  is,  in  this  respect,  of  a  directly 
contrary  nature  ;  and  is  happily  expressed  by  the  same  excellent 
man,  when  he  says  of  himself,  "  I  have  set  the  Lord  always  be- 
fore me."  Every  day,  on  every  important  occasion,  and  on  very 
many  occasions  which  are  not  important ;  every  good  man  will 
make  God  the  object  of  his  thoughts,  and  call  to  mind  his  char- 
acter, and  his  presence.  He,  who  does  not  this  in  some  good  de- 
gree, can  hardly  be  said  to  remember  God  at  all. 

2dly.  To  remember  God,  denotes,  that  our  thoughts  concerning 
him  be  true,  and  just  ;  or,  in  other  words,  such  as  are  communi- 
cated by  his  Word  and  Works. 

To  attribute  to  God,  when  we  think  of  him,  qualities,  which 
are  not  his,  and  to  forget  his  real  character,  is  not  to  remember 
him,  but  a  Being,  whom  we  substitute  for  him.  It  may  be  an 
idol,  Jupiter,  Baal,  or  Moloch  ;  or  a  being  altogether  such  an  one 
as  ourselves  ,*  but  certainly  it  is  not  Jehovah.  To  remember 
him  is,  in  the  sense  of  the  text,  to  remember  him  as  he  is. 

Vol.  II.  21 


158  THE  DUTY  OF  REMEMBERING  [SER.  XI. 

But  it  is  the  true  character  of  God,  to  be  self-existent,  inde- 
pendent, immutable,  and  eternal,  to  be  present  in  every  place, 
and  to  know  every  thing. 

It  Is  the  true  character  of  God  to  possess  unlimited  holiness,  jus- 
tice, wisdom,  power,  goodness,  faithfulness  and  truth. 

It  is  the  character  of  God  to  be  the  Creator,  Preserver,  Pro- 
prietor, Ruler,  and  final  cause,  of  all  things. 

It  is  the  character  of  God  to  be  the  Benefactor,  Rewarder,  and 
Judge,  of  the  intelligent  universe. 

It  is  the  true  character  of  God  to  be  the  Father,  Redeemer,  and 
Sanctifier,  of  mankind. 

If,  therefore,  we  would  perform  the  duty  enjoined  in  the  text : 
we  must  ascribe  to  him  in  our  thoughts  all  these  great  and  glo- 
rious attributes  ;  must  consider  him  as  existing  alone,  without  a 
rival,  without  a  second  ;  and  we  must  be  able  to  say,  "  This  God 
is  our  God  ;"  the  object,  on  which  our  thoughts  dwell  forever 
and  ever. 

3dly.  To  remember  God,  in  the  sense  of  the  text,  is  to  remem- 
ber him  CordiaUy. 

It  is  not  enough,  that  God  should  be  in  our  thoughts  ;  and  that 
our  thoughts  concerning  him  should  be  just  and  true.  These 
things  cannot  exist  alone.  In  order  to  entertain  these  modes  of 
contemplation  concerning  God  in  the  manner,  which  has  been  al- 
ready directed,  it  is  indispensable,  that  our  affections  harmonize 
with  our  thoughts  ;  and  be  intertwined  with  them,  so  as  to  form 
a  part  of  their  very  contexture. 

Nothing  is  more  plain,  than  that  the  Being,  who  possesses  these 
exalted  attributes,  ought  always  to  be  remembered  by  us  with 
supreme  Love,  Complacency,  and  Gratitude.  His  excellence  de- 
mands this  of  us  with  an  obligation,  which  no  virtuous  being  can 
resist,  and  no  sinful  being  deny. 

Nor  are  we  less  under  obligation  to  remember  him  with  Rev- 
erence. This  atfection  is  demanded  of  us  irresistibly  by  that 
union  of  majesty,  purity,  and  kindness,  in  which  he  so  extensive- 
ly manifests  himself  to  the  view  of  his  Intelligent  creatures. 


sER.  XI.]  THE  CREATOR  IN  YOUTH.  159 

Equally  are  we  required  to  remember  him  with  Admiration. 
This  religious  emotion  is  every  where  called  for  by  the  wonder- 
ful works  of  his  Power  and  Wisdom,  both  in  Creation  and  Prov- 
idence, and  peculiarly  by  the  wonders  of  Redemption.  It  is  an 
emotion,  continually  exercised  by  every  good  man,  when  con- 
templating these  marvellous  objects  ;  and  appears  to  have  occu- 
pied no  small  part  of  the  time,  as  well  as  the  thoughts,  of  David : 
as  is  abundantly  manifested  in  the  Psalms. 

4thly.  To  remember  God,  in  the  sense  of  the  text,  is  also  to  re- 
member him  Practically. 

Every  person,  inclined,  or  even  willing,  to  perform  this  duty, 
will  keep  before  his  eyes  the  absolute  sufficiency  of  God  for  every 
great  and  good  purpose  ;  and  his  perfect  disposition  to  accom- 
plish that,  and  that  only,  which  is  desirable.  What  he  under- 
stands of  the  divine  dispensations  he  will  approve.  Where  he 
does  not  understand  he  will  confide.  In  this  manner  he  will 
cherish  perpetually  a  spirit  of  Acquiescence  and  Resignation. 

At  the  same  time,  he  will  solemnly  call  to  mind  on  every  occa- 
sion that  to  this  universal  Creator,  Ruler,  and  Judge,  he  is  en- 
tirely accountable  for  all  his  moral  conduct ;  and  will  keep  before 
his  eyes  the  authority,  wisdom,  and  excellence  of  his  precepts, 
with  a  sincere  intention  cheerfully  and  faithfully  to  obey  them. 
This,  especially,  is  what  Solomon  intended  in  the  text ;  and  is 
the  end,  for  which  all,  that  is  mentioned  above,  is  to  be  done. 
God  is  remembered  by  us  to  no  valuable  purpose,  unless  we  con- 
secrate ourselves  to  his  service,  faithfully  obey  his  most  holy  will, 
and  thus  live  to  the  glory  of  his  name. 

To  remember  God  is  the  indispensable  duty  of  all  men.  Still, 
it  is  here  peculiarly  enjoined  upon  those,  who  are  Young.  I  will 
now,  therefore, 

II.  Suggest  to  the  Young  persons  in  this  assembly  several  In- 
ducements to  the  performance  of  it. 

1  St.  All  the  obligations,  which  require  this  duty  of  others,  re- 
quire it  of  you. 

The  duty  of  remembering  God  commences  with  our  moral 
agency  ;  at  the  moment,  when  we  begin  to  discern  between  good 


160  THE  DUTY  OF  REMEMBERING  [SER.  XI. 

and  evil,  and  are  capable  of  choosing  the  one,  and  refusing  the 
other.  That  God  has  an  absolute  right  to  us,  and  to  our  services, 
has  been  already  seen.  You  will  not  question,  that  this  right 
commences  with  your  existence.  As  little  will  you  doubt  the 
reasonableness  of  his  requiring  your  services,  your  absolute  need 
of  his  favour,  or  the  supreme  importance  of  living  to  his  praise. 
All  these  things  began  with  your  capacity  of  understanding  them. 
As  soon  as  you  were  able  to  love,  fear,  and  serve  God,  they  all 
became  your  indispensable  duty.  In  neglecting  them  you  com- 
mit many  sins  ;  and  fail,  so  long  at  least,  of  performing  your  du- 
ty, and  obtaining  an  interest  in  his  mercy.  So  long  you  will  be 
destitute  of  the  blessings,  furnished  by  a  pious  mind,  and  of  a 
title  to  eternal  life, 

2dly.    Youth  is  the  best  season  for  performing  this  duty. 

It  is  the  best,  because  it  is  in  your  possession.  Other  seasons 
may,  or  may  not,  arrive.  The  accepted  time,  to  every  man,  is 
now.     The  present  day  is  the  day  of  salvation. 

It  is  the  best,  because  your  hearts  are  more  tender,  and  more 
susceptible  of  religious  impressions,  than  they  ivill  probably  be  at 
any  season  hereafter.  The  susceptibility  of  the  youthful  heart  is 
proverbial.  Your  affections  have  not,  hitherto,  been  rendered 
callous  by  the  enervating  influence  of  sensuality  ;  nor  by  the  be- 
numbing power  of  avarice  and  ambition.  Your  sensibility  is  ea- 
sily awakened.  Your  fears  are  easily  roused.  Your  hopes  are 
naturally  vigorous,  and  your  attachments  strong.  You  are  much 
more  prone  to  feel  a  grateful  sense  of  benefits,  than  persons,  who 
have  long  been  active  in  the  sordid  business  of  this  world  ;  who 
have  long  been  accustomed  to  absorb  their  thoughts  in  plans  for 
heaping  up  money,  in  making  hard  bargains,  in  the  intrigues  of 
cunning  and  mischief,  in  contending  against  rivals  for  place  and 
power,  and  in  hunting  after  popular  applause.  The  vigour  of 
your  minds  has  not  been  wasted  by  a  long  continued  exposure  to 
the  infection  of  voluptuousness.  Your  hearts  in  a  comparative 
view  have  not  been  hardened  by  the  sophistry  of  self-justification, 
and  self-flattery.  You  have  not  palsied  your  fears  by  venturing 
aften  to  the  verge  of  crimes,  by  passing  over  to  forbidden  ground, 


SER.  XI.]  THE  CREATOR  IN  YOUTH.  161 

and  by  finding  yourselves  still  safe,  although  you  have  boldly 
perpetrated  iniquity.  These  are  evils,  the  full  effects  of  which 
are  felt  only  in  later  life.  They  exist,  indeed,  in  you  ;  but  with 
a  far  less  eflicacious  and  triumphant  energy,  than  at  more  ad- 
vanced periods.  At  this  time,  therefore,  and  for  this  reason,  you 
enjoy  the  most  favorable  opportunity  for  turning  to  God,  renoun- 
cing sin,  resisting  the  influence  of  temptation,  and  entering  the 
path  to  heaven. 

It  is  the  best  season  because  it  is,  comiJarativehj,  unoccvpied  by 
other  objects.  The  cares  of  this  world  have  hardly  begun  to  en- 
gage your  attention.  The  business,  to  which  you  are  here  des- 
tined, is  all  marked  out,  and  methodised  to  your  hands ;  and 
can  all  be  done  without  any  intrusion  upon  those  seasons,  which 
are  necessary  for  the  purposes  of  religion.  All  men  have,  indeed, 
at  every  period  of  life  leisure,  really  sufficient  for  these  purposes ; 
but,  to  most,  tJie  cares  of  this  ivorld  and  the  deceitfidness  of  rich- 
es, honours,  and  pleasures,  choTie  the  word,  which  might  make 
them  wise  to  salvation,  and  render  it  unfruitful.  But  you  have 
ample,  known,  acknowledged  opportunities  for  reading  the  word 
of  God  ;  religious  meditation  ;  learning  the  state  of  your  own 
hearts  :  conversing  with  persons  of  piety  ;  frequenting  your  clos- 
ets ;  celebrating  the  ordinances  of  the  sanctuary  ;  consecrating 
yourselves  to  the  service  of  God  ;  and  performing  the  various,  ac- 
tive duties  of  Christianity. 

At  the  same  time,  you  are  in  a  great  measure  safe  from  a  per- 
plexing and  mischievous  intrusion  of  another  kind.  Men,  who 
have  entered  into  the  bustle  of  this  world,  are  exposed,  whenever 
they  turn  their  attention  to  religious  subjects,  and  commence  at- 
tempts to  become  Christians,  to  the  continual  intrusion  of  world- 
ly thoughts,  and  worldly  feelings.  These  thoughts  and  feelings, 
even  when  most  unwelcome,  and  when  serious  efforts  are  made 
to  exclude  them,  still  force  themselves  into  the  mind  ;  and  con- 
tinually mingle  with  all  its  thoughts  and  emotions,  of  a  religious 
nature.  The  habit  of  dwelling  upon  worldly  objects  is  so  strong, 
that  the  current  of  thinking  and  affection  is  continually  returning 
to  this  channel ;  and  the  difficulty  of  diverting  it  into  that,  in  which 


162  THE  DUTY  OF  REMEMBERING  [SER.  XI. 

it  ought  to  flow,  becomes  almost  insurmountable.  In  this  man- 
ner the  suppliant  finds  the  world  intruding  into  his  prayers  ;  and, 
when  his  petitions  arc  ascending  to  heaven,  often  perceives  his 
thoughts  lagging  behind  them  upon  cartli.  In  this  manner  the 
sacred  season  of  the  Sabbath,  even  to  those  who  intend  to  keep 
it  holy,  and  to  turn  away  their  feet  from  fmdwg  their  own  pleas- 
lire,  becomes  a  day  half  religious,  and  half  secular:  the  soul  now 
struggling  to  lift  its  thoughts  to  God,  and  to  seek  eternal  life  ;  and 
now  busily  employed  in  reviewing  its  bargains,  counting  its  gains, 
lamenting  its  losses,  planning  its  business,  or  projecting  its  amuse- 
ments. In  tJie  house  of  God,  the  prayer  and  the  psalm,  are  by 
the  mind,  in  this  state,  taken  up  by  fragments ;  while  many,  and 
those  often  long,  parentheses  intervene,  in  which  it  wanders  to 
the  ends  of  the  earth  after  worldly  objects.  The  sermon,  also,  is 
half  heard,  and  half  unnoticed  ;  and  very  commonly  all  forgotten. 
In  this  manner  even  Christians  themselves  carry  much  of  the 
week  into  the  Sabbath,  and  but  little  of  the  Sabbath  into  the 
week. 

The  effect  of  this  state  of  things  is  only  unhappy.  The  inter- 
ests of  the  soul  are  rarely  remembered,  and  scarcely  felt.  The 
impressions,  made  by  religious  objects  are  few,  feeble,  and  tran- 
sient. The  precepts  and  doctrines,  the  warnings  and  reproofs, 
of  the  Scriptures  barely  touch  the  mind ;  and,  instead  of  enter- 
ing deep  into  its  affections,  only  skim  over  its  surface.  For  a  per- 
son, thus  situated,  how  little  hope  can  be  rationally  indulged  ? 
Hardly  can  he  be  said  even  to  have  an  ear  to  hear,  or  a  heart  to 
understand.  Instead  of  striving  to  enter  in  at  the  straight  gate, 
he  can  scarcely  be  supposed  to  know  where  it  is. 

From  these  evils,  unless  you  choose  to  encounter  them,  you 
are  in  a  great  measure  exempted.  Your  proper  business  is  atten- 
ded with  no  uncertainty ;  and  demands  no  contrivance  on  your 
part,  no  solicitude  concerning  the  means  of  performing  it,  or  the 
success  with  which  it  may  be  attended.  It  returns  with  perfect 
regularity  ;  is  always  done  in  a  stated  manner  ;  and,  when  thus 
done,  is  of  course  successful.  Thus  you  have  not  only  leisure 
hours,  returning  daily,  which  you  may  devote  to  religious  attain- 


SER.  XL]  THE  CREATOR  IN  YOUTH.  163 

ments,  but  also  minds,  at  leisure  for  every  religious  pursuit ; 
thoughts  which  may  be  easily  occupied  ;  affections  which  may  be 
easily  engaged,  about  your  eternal  welfare. 

Youth  is  also  the  best  season  for  the  performance  of  this  duty, 
because  it  is  the  season,  at  which  it  will  he  most  acceptably  per- 
formed. The  fact,  that  these  books  of  Solomon  were  written  pe- 
culiarly for  the  benefit  of  those,  who  are  Young,  is  itself  ample 
proof  of  this  position.  We  know  also,  that  youth  is,  in  the  or- 
dinary course  of  nature,  as  much  less  corrupted  than  middle  age, 
as  that  age,  than  declining  years.  The  beauty  of  early  piety  is 
often  acknowledged  even  by  sinners ;  and  is  regarded  with  pecu- 
liar delight  by  good  men.  From  the  manner,  in  which  the  Scrip- 
tures speak  of  Joseph,  Samuel,  Ahijah,  Jabez,  Josiah  and  Tim- 
othy, there  is  abundant  reason  to  believe,  that  it  is  an  object  of 
peculiar  complacency  to  the  eye  of  God. 

At  the  same  time  the  greatest  possible  opportunity  will  in  this 
manner  be  enjoyed  for  serving  God  extensively  ;  if  we  live  to 
the  utmost  date  of  human  life,  of  serving  him  long ;  if  not,  of 
serving  him  through  the  utmost  period,  which  will  be  in  our  power. 

All  men  will  hereafter  he  rewarded  according  to  their  worJts. 
The  servant,  who  in  the  parable,  with  his  pound  gained  ten 
pounds,  was  made  ruler  over  ten  cities  ;  while  he,  who  gained 
Jive,  was  made  ruler  only  of  five  cities.  The  person,  whore- 
members  his  Creator  in  the  days  of  his  youth,  and  who  thus  pos- 
sesses the  greatest  opportunity  of  serving  him,  will  of  course  en- 
title himself  to  a  superiour  and  very  glorious  reward,  because  he 
has  served  God  more  than  other  men.  This,  however,  is  far  from 
being  his  whole  advantage.  He  will  serve  him  better,  as  well 
as  longer.  He  will  have  fewer  sins  of  which  he  must  repent, 
and  for  which  he  must  answer  at  the  final  day  ;  weaker  passions 
and  appetites  to  overcome ;  feebler  temptations  to  resist ;  and 
fewer  obstinate  habits  to  break  down  :  Hence,  he  will  backslide 
more  rarely ;  and  make  a  more  regular  progress  in  the  Christian 
life.  He  will  have  less  to  lament  on  a  dying  bed  ;  and  more  to 
rehearse  with  comfort,  and  hope,  in  his  final  account. 


164  THE  DUTY  OF  REMEMBERING  [SER.  XL 

3dly.  Future  seasons  will  he  comparatively  unfavorable  to 
this  duty. 

Every  day,  you  neglect  this  duty,  you  will  advance  in  sin.  You 
began  to  sin  against  God,  when  you  began  to  exert  moral  agen- 
cy. From  that  time,  your  sins  have  increased  both  in  number 
and  degree.  The  mass  must,  therefore,  have  been  sufficiently 
accumulated  to  alarm  any  eye,  not  already  bhnded  by  profligacy. 
Think,  then,  I  beseech  you,  to  what  a  size  it  will  spread,  and  to 
what  a  height  it  will  grow,  if  you  continue  to  heap  up  iniquity  to 
old  age  ;  and  what  will  be  the  record  of  your  lives,  when  the 
books  shall  be  opened,  out  of  which  you  will  be  judged. 

At  the  same  time,  by  continuing  to  sin  you  regularly  harden 
your  hearts  against  reformation.  The  very  gratifications,  by 
which  you  have  been  tempted  to  evil,  become  more  and  more 
loved,  because  they  have  been  loved  long,  and  enjoyed  often. 
Thus  the  sot  relishes  ardent  spirits  much  more  intensely,  than  he 
did  in  the  early  stages  of  his  career  of  intemperance ;  and  is 
with  far  more  difficulty,  withdrawn,  if  indeed  he  can  be  at  all 
withdrawn,  from  this  fatal  indulgence  of  his  taste. 

But  this  is  not  all.  We  love  practices  as  truly  as  the  objects, 
for  which  they  are  adopted.  The  thief  loves  to  steal,  as  truly 
as  he  loves  the  object,  which  he  has  stolen.  The  gambler  loves 
to  game,  as  truly  as  the  stake,  for  which  he  games.  The  em- 
ployment, in  each  case  is  as  truly  relished,  as  the  expected  gain  ; 
and  is  the  more  relished,  the  longer  it  is  continued,  and  the  often- 
er  it  is  repeated.  Thus  the  profane  person  loves  to  swear  and 
curse,  though  he  gains  nothing  by  it.  Thus  the  liar  loves  to  lie, 
though  he  is  sure  of  being  a  loser ;  and  the  sabbath  breaker,  to 
violate  the  sabbath  at  the  expense  of  his  character,  and  his  soul. 
In  this  manner  are  formed  those,  which  we  call  evil  habits  ;  the 
effect  of  which  is,  universally,  to  harden  the  heart,  to  fix  the  soul 
in  a  course  of  sin,  and  to  hurry  it  onwards  towards  perdition. 

Even  this  is  not  all.  You  will  also  harden  your  hearts  by  self- 
justification.  It  is  impossible  for  the  mind  to  fail  of  being  unea- 
sy, when  the  conscience  reproaches  it  with  its  sins.  At  first,  this 
uneasiness  is  great,  and  distressing,  because  the  conscience  is 


SER.  XL]  THE  CREATOR  IN  YOUTH,  165 

then  tender,  and  strongly  susceptible  of  moral  impressions. 
From  the  sufferings,  which  it  is  thus  compelled  to  endure,  the 
mind  naturally  seeks  for  relief;  and  gradually  finds  it  in  argu- 
ments, employed  to  annihilate,  or  at  least  to  lessen,  its  guilt ;  in 
sport  and  ridicule,  summoned  to  fritter  it  away  ;  and  in  examples, 
which  quiet  its  fears,  and  strengthen  it  for  future  perpetrations. 
That,  which  can  be  defended,  or  even  palliated  always  appear^ 
less  alarming,  than  when  it  was  thought  absolutely  indefensible. 
That,  which  can  be  laughed  at,  ceases  to  alarm  at  all ;  and  that, 
which  is  done  by  others,  it  is  readily  believed,  may  be  done  by 
one's  self  with  some  degree  of  safety.  To  be  no  worse  than 
others,  is,  in  the  view  of  most  persons,  to  be  in  no  very  dangerous 
or  distressing  circumstances. 

Thus,  although  the  soul  was  terrified  by  the  first  sin,  yet  with 
these  sources  of  justification  in  its  possession  it  becomes  quiet 
under  the  second ;  proceeds  familiarly  to  the  third  ;  and  cheer- 
fully commits  the  fourth. 

While  all  these  causes  thus  contribute  to  harden  the  heart ;  it 
derives,  also,  not  a  little  consolation  and  support  from  the  consid- 
eration, that  neither  its  own  sins,  nor  those  of  others  around  it,  are 
either  generally  or  obviously  punished.  All  things  in  this  world 
substantially  come  alike  to  all ;  and  there  is  one  event  to  the  right' 
eous  and  to  the  wicked.  For  this  reason  no  man  knoweth  love,  or 
hatred^  by  all  that  is  before  him.  This,  indeed,  furnishes  no  solid 
reason,  why  any  man  should  encourage  himself  in  sin.  For^ 
though  a  sinner  do  evil  an  hundred  times,  and  his  days  be  prolon^ 
ged,  yet  shall  it  not  be  well  with  the  wicked  ;  nor  with  him^  any 
more  than  with  the  rest  of  the  wicked.  Yet  it  is  true  at  the  pres» 
ent  day,  no  less  than  in  the  time  of  Solomon,  that  "  because  sen- 
tence against  an  evil  work  is  not  executed  speedily,  therefore  the 
heart  of  the  sons  of  men  is  fully  set  in  them  to  do  evil."  To 
most  persons  the  consciousness  of  safety,  even  now,  becomes  the 
foundation  of  a  strong  and  supporting  hope,  that  they  shall  be 
safe  hereafter. 

On  all  these  accounts  the  periods  of  life  which  succeed  youth, 
and  that  of  old  age  especially,  are,  as  they  are  styled  in  the  text. 

Vol.  II.  22 


166  THE  DUTY  OF  REMEMBERING  [SER.  XI. 

evil  days  :  not  only  uncomfortable,  but  peculiarly  unfavourable 
to  the  duty  of  remembering  God,  and  the  attainment  of  salvation. 

4thly.   These  Seasons  may  never  arrive. 

You  have  already  seen,  that,  if  they  should  actually  arrive,  and 
you  should  live  to  old  age,  your  prospects  of  performing  this 
duty  would  continually  lessen.  The  danger  is  not  only  real,  but 
great,  that  your  views  of  all  spiritual  objects  would  become  more 
erroneous  ;  your  meditations  on  them  more  unfrequent,  and  un- 
interesting ;  your  affections  more  obtuse,  and  worldly ;  your 
hearts  more  callous  to  religious  impressions  ;  your  consciences 
more  enervated  ;  your  thoughts  more  distracted  both  by  business, 
and  pleasure  ;  and  your  hopes  more  dim,  distant,  and  fading. 

But  what  right  have  you  to  satisfy  yourselves,  that  such  seasons 
will  ever  arrive  to  yoii  ?  The  uncertainty  of  human  life  is  so  pal- 
pable, that,  independently  of  the  immense  importance  of  the 
subject,  all  observations  concerning  it  would  long  since  have 
ceased  to  interest  the  mind,  and  become  as  dull  and  tedious,  as 
a  string  of  vulgar  proverbs.  It  is  written  in  almost  every  chap- 
ter of  the  Bible.  It  is  inscribed  by  the  finger  of  God  on  almost 
every  page  of  his  providence. 

Nor  is  life  less  uncertain  to  youth,  than  to  manhood  ;  nor  to 
the  most  promising  youths,  than  to  the  dullest ;  nor  to  the  gay- 
est, than  to  the  most  gloomy  ;  nor  to  those,  who  assure  them- 
selves of  the  most  days,  and  the  best,  than  to  the  disconsolate 
and  desponding. 

Go  to  yonder  burying-ground  ;  and  read  the  inscriptions,  en- 
graved on  the  monuments  of  the  dead.  How  often  will  you  find 
them  announcing,  that  those  who  sleep  beneath,  entered  these 
solitary  chambers  in  the  morning  of  life  ?  How  often  have  you 
yourselves  already  followed  to  the  tomb  the  young,  the  sprightly, 
the  sportive;  your  own  companions  in  life;  nay,  your  own  friends, 
and  seen  them  lodged  in  the  dark  and  narrow  house  !  How  often 
have  you  seen  them  in  the  midst  of  cheerfulness,  and  activity,  in 
the  full  possession  of  health  and  vigor,  full  of  hopes  and  gay  with 
briUiant  prospects,  promising  themselves  long  life  in  the  spright- 
liest  career  of  pleasure,  and  forming  many  coloured  visions  o( 


SliR.  XI.]  THE  CREATOR  IN  YOUTH. 


167 


paridisiacal  happiness  in  this  world ;  arrested  by  disease,  stretch- 
ed upon  the  bed  of  death,  bidding  a  melancholy  farewell  to  all 
things  here  below,  and  summoned  to  their  final  account  before 
the  bar  of  God  !  How  solemnly  do  these  things  admonish  you, 
that  man  knoweth  not  his  time  !  How  affectingly  do  they  prove, 
"  that  as  fishes  are  taken  in  an  evil  net,  and  as  birds  are  caught 
in  a  snare  ;  so  the  sons  of  men  are  snared  in  an  evil  time,  when 
it  falleth  suddenly  upon  them  !" 

But  in  so  mighty  a  concern,  in  a  duty  of  such  immeasurable 
importance,  nothing  ought  to  be  left  to  hazard  ;  and  especially 
to  a  hazard  so  alarming.  Where  your  all  may  be  lost  in  a  day, 
an  hour,  or  a  moment,  what  folly,  what  madness,  must  it  be  to 
postpone,  even  for  the  best  reasons,  the  performance  of  a  duty 
on  which  that  all  depends  !  But  here  you  can  allege  no  reasons. 
The  very  sins,  which  you  are  here  required  to  forsake,  are  them- 
selves the  only  causes,  why  you  do  not  forsake  them.  The  very 
sins,  of  which  you  are  required  to  repent,  are  the  preventives 
of  your  repentance.  The  very  dangers,  which  you  are  summon- 
ed to  shun,  are  themselves  the  reasons  why  you  do  not  escape. 
Miserable  choice  !  Deplorable  determination  !  Who,  but  for  the 
irresistible  proof  from  experience,  would  believe,  that  rational 
beings  could  refuse  their  own  salvation,  and  be  in  love  with  ruin. 
Think,  I  beseech  you,  what  has  become  of  your  gay,  deceased 
companions  :  ponder  with  alarm  and  terror  what  is  to  become 
of  you. 


SERMON  XII. 

THE  DUTY  OF  REMEMBERING  THE  CREATOR  IN  YOUTH.-Sermon  II. 

Egclesiastes  xii.   1. 

Remember  now  thy  Creator  in  the  days  of  thy  youth :  while 
the  evil  days  come  not^  nor  the  years  draw  nigh^  when  thou  shall 
say^  "  /  have  no  pleasure  in  them.'''' 

In  the  preceding  discourse,  from  this  passage,  I  proposed, 

I.  To  explain  the  Duty^  which  is  here  enjoined  ; 

II.  To  suggest  several  Inducements  to  the  performance  of  it  ; 
and 

III.  To  mention  several  Reasons^  which  usually  prevent  it  from 
being  perfortned. 

Under  the  first  of  these  heads  I  observed, 

1st.  That  to  remember  our  Creator  is  to  make  him  frequently, 
an  object  of  our  thoughts. 

2dly.  To  possess  thoughts  concerning  him,  which  are  true,  and 
just ;  or  such  as  are  communicated  by  his  Word  and  Works. 

3dly.  To  remember  him  cordially ;  or  with  supreme  love,  com- 
placency,  gratitude,  reverence,  and  admiration. 

4thly.  To  remember  him  practically  ;  or  with  universal  confi- 
dence, and  obedience. 

Under  the  second  head,  as  Inducements  to  perform  this  duty 
in  Youth,  I  observed, 

1st.  That  all  the  obligations,  which  require  it  of  others,  require 
it  of  those  who  are  Young  : 

2dly.  That  Youth  is  the  best  season  for  performing  this  duty : 

Because  it  is  in  their  possession ;  Because  their  hearts  are 


SER.  XIL]  THE  DUTY  OF  REMEMBERING,  &c.  169 

more  tender,  and  susceptible  of  religious  impressions,  than  they 
will  probably  be  at  any  future  period  ; 

Because  it  is  comparatively  unoccupied  by  other  objects  ;  and 

Because  it  is  the  season,  at  which  the  duty  will  be  most  ac- 
ceptably performed  : 

3dly.  That  future  seasons  will  be  comparatively  unfavourable 
to  the  performance  ;  and 

4thly.   That  future  seasons  may  never  arrive. 

I  shall  now  proceed  to  the  consideration  of  the  third  head  of 
discourse,  proposed  at  that  time  ;  viz. 

To  mention  several  Reasons^  which  usually  prevent  this  duty 
from,  being  performed. 

Notwithstanding  these  solemn  and  powerful  reasons  for  re- 
membering our  Creator  in  the  days  of  our  youth,  we  cannot  avoid 
perceiving,  that  multitudes,  (the  greater  part  by  far,)  appear  not 
to  remember  him  at  that  time,  nor  at  any  other.  This  fact,  like 
every  other,  has  its  causes.  These  operate  in  much  the  same 
manner,  wherever  they  exist :  the  nature  of  the  mind,  on  which 
they  operate  being  substantially  the  same.  They  will,  of  course, 
naturally  prevent  those,  who  are  present,  as  well  as  others,  from 
performing  this  duty.  It  is,  therefore,  of  no  small  importance, 
that  they  should  know,  remember,  and  feel,  the  moral  causes,  or 
reasons,  which  have  this  malignant  influence ;  that  they  may  be 
upon  their  guard,  and  as  much  as  may  be,  overcome  their  perni- 
cious efficacy. 

Of  these  reasons  the 

1st.  Which  I  shall  mention^  is  a  bad  Education. 

Children  are  justly  said  to  have  a  bad  education,  when  they 
are  not  taught  early,  often,  and  affectionately,  to  know  and  fear, 
to  remember  and  serve,  God.  The  first  impressions  are  prover- 
bially regarded  as  the  best,  which  are  ever  made.  Impressions, 
favourable  to  piety,  cannot  be  effectually  made  without  great  care, 
pains,  and  perseverance  ;  without  frequent,  solemn,  affectionate  in- 
struction, counsel,  exhortation,  rebuke,  reproof,  alarms,  and  in- 
junctions. Line  must  be  given  to  children  upon  line,  and  precept 
upon  precept ;  here  a  little.^  and  there  a  little.     Parents  will  in 


170  THE  DUTV  OF  REMEMBERING  [SER.  XII. 

vain  expect  from  their  children  the  proper  effects  of  instruction, 
when  communicated  only  in  a  single  instance.  Persons  of  ma- 
ture age,  in  the  full  possession  of  their  understanding,  and  at  the 
very  best  period  for  improvement,  are  not  often  very  happily  af- 
fected by  moral  instruction,  when  only  once  communicated.  How 
much  less  can  this  be  expected  from  children,  who  are  so  much 
less  capable  of  consideration ;  who  often  misunderstand  what 
they  are  taught,  and  oftener  understand  it  very  imperfectly  ; 
whose  thoughts  are  instinctively  volatile,  and  wander  away  from 
the  instruction  even  at  the  very  moment,  when  it  is  given,  to  al- 
most every  object  by  which  they  are  surrounded  ;  and  who  must 
be  moulded  into  habits  o{ receivings  almost  as  much  as  of  obeijing, 
what  they  are  taught.  The  parent,  who  has  but  once  explained 
to  his  children  their  duty,  has  done  but  a  very  little  part  of  his 
own. 

Children  must  be  instructed,  as  our  Saviour  instructed  his  dis- 
ciples, by  degrees,  and  as  they  are  able  to  receive  and  bear  it,  pa- 
tiently ;  with  a  continual  regard,  and  not  a  small  one,  to  their 
prejudices  ;  affectionately  ;  with  many  repetitions  of  the  same  in- 
struction in  many  forms  ;  without  fretfulness,  imperiousness,  mo- 
roseness,  or  even  austerity.  Their  instructions  also,  like  those  of 
Christ,  should  be  communicated  in  the  plainest,  simplest  lan- 
guage ;  and  continued  unto  the  end.  So  far  as  education  falls 
short  of  an  accordance  with  these  characteristics,  it  is,  either  in 
the  positive  or  negative  sense,  bad. 

At  the  same  time,  like  the  instructions  of  Christ,  all  the  pre- 
cepts given  to  children  should  be  seen  to  have  their  proper  influ- 
ence on  the  life  of  the  Teacher  himself.  He  must  shew,  that  he 
believes  what  he  wishes  the  child  to  beheve,  and  that  he  does 
what  he  commands  the  child  to  do.  In  this  manner  the  teacher 
will  prove  himself  to  be  in  earnest.  Otherwise,  whatever  labour, 
and  care,  he  may  employ,  his  instructions  will  be  in  vain.  Had 
the  apostles  seen  their  Masters  life  contradict  his  precepts  ;  they 
would  never  have  become  his  disciples,  nor  hazarded  their  lives 
by  preaching  the  Gospel  to  mankind. 


SER.  XII.3  THE  CREATOR  IN  YOUTH.  HI 

To  these  things  should  always  be  added,  also,  humble,  fervent 
prayer  for  the  blessing  of  God  on  the  instructions,  which  are  ac- 
tually given.  Without  this  blessing,  all  human  efforts  will  be  to 
no  purpose.  "Except  the  Lord  build  the  house,  they  labour  in 
vain,  that  build  it.  Except  the  Lord  keep  the  city,  the  watchman 
Vi^aketh  in  vain."  It  will  be  in  vain  "  to  rise  up  early  and  sit  up 
late,  and  eat  the  bread  of  sorrows,"  with  the  hope  of  training  up 
children  for  God,  without  his  blessing  to  render  the  exertions 
which  are  made  for  this  end  efficacious.  But  this  blessing  will 
not  be  given,  unless  we  ask  for  it.  In  this  case,  only,  will  our 
children  be  truly  an  heritage  from  the  Lord. 

Wherever  these  things  are  neglected,  either  partially  or  wholly, 
children  are  so  far  badly  educated  :  and  parents,  in  this  case, 
will  be  obliged  to  remember  with  extreme  regret,  when  they  see 
their  children  "  forget  the  God  that  made  them,  and  lightly  es- 
teem the  Rock  of  their  salvation,"  that  their  own  misconduct, 
their  own  unfaithfulness,  has  been,  extensively,  the  cause  of  their 
children's  ruin. 

I  have  observed  above,  that,  susceptible  as  the  mind  is  of 
strong  impressions  in  childhood,  those,  that  are  of  a  religious  na- 
ture cannot  be  made  without  great  care,  and  pains.  Good  seed 
can  be  sown  with  success,  only  by  means  of  laborious  cultivation. 
With  weeds  the  case  is  far  otherwise.  They  spring  up  without 
any  culture,  and  become  more  vigorous,  the  more  the  soil  is  neg- 
lected. The  enemy ^  that  sowed  tares  in  the  field,  accomplished 
this  business,  while  men  slept.  When  parents  sleep  over  their 
task,  Satan  always  performs  his.  Neglected  children  always  re- 
ceive evil  impressions  of  every  kind,  without  number,  and  with  a 
power  which  it  is  not  easy  to  limit.  Such  impressions  their  own 
propensities  prepare  them  strongly  to  receive.  Such  impressions, 
every  thing  around  them,  every  thing  with  which  they  corres- 
pond, will  continually  make.  Their  commerce  with  the  world,^ 
will  fill  them  with  evil  thoughts,  and  desires ;  will  form  them  to 
evil  habits  ;  and  will  conduct  them  to  evil  practices.  Neglected 
children  grow  up  to  sin,  of  course:  just  as  uncultivated  ground 
is  covered  with  thorns  and  briers. 


172  THE  DUTY  OF  REMEMBERING  [SER.  Xli 

But  neglect  is  not  the  only  mode  of  bad  education.  Children 
are  sometimes  directly  taught  to  sin  both  by  precept  and  exam- 
ple. By  the  example,  even  of  parents  themselves,  they  are  often 
taught  to  be  profane;  and  that  in  many  forms  ;  to  jest  with  things 
of  a  sacred  nature ;  to  ridicule  them,  and,  universally,  to  treat 
them  with  contempt ;  to  violate  the  sabbath ;  to  forget  the  sanc- 
tuary ;  to  be  lewd  ;  to  become  sots  ;  to  lie ;  to  cheat ;  and  to 
steal.  All  these  evils,  and  many  others,  are  at  times,  so  promi- 
nent in  the  conversation  and  conduct  of  parents,  so  continually  ex- 
hibited, and  so  gross  in  their  appearance  ;  that  a  child,  without  a 
miracle,  can  hardly  fail  of  contamination.  I  need  not  tell  you 
how  far  such  children  must  be  from  remembering  their  Creator. 

There  are,  however,  other  modes,  in  which  children  are  direct- 
ly educated  to  sin,  with  respect  to  which  a  greater  number  of  pa- 
rents are  guilty,  and  from  which  far  greater  numbers  of  children 
are  in  danger.  These,  being  much  less  gross,  and  much  less  ob- 
vious to  the  eye,  and  particularly  having  been  long  and  very  ex- 
tensively pursued  by  persons  of  reputation  ;  have  acquired  a  kind 
of  sanction  from  custom,  and  a  kind  of  ratification  from  the  com- 
mon agreement  of  decent  society.  All  these  may  be  involved  in 
one  short  description,  viz.  an  education  for  this  world. 

Under  this  broad  character,  however,  are  to  be  ranged  many 
distinct  and  widely  separated  modes  of  procedure.  Of  these 
two  or  three,  only,  can  be  mentioned  at  the  present  time. 

Parents  often  teach  their  children  that  the  acquisition  of  wealth 
is  the  proper  and  commanding  object  of  all  their  pursuits.  This 
they  do,  never  perhaps,  in  express  terms ;  but  in  the  general 
tenor  of  their  conversation,  and  conduct.  Whenever  they  talk 
seriously,  they  talk  almost  only  about  wealth,  and  the  acquisition 
of  wealth.  They  exult  before  them  in  the  good  bargains,  which 
they  have  made,  and  lament  the  bad  ones ;  disclose  their  schemes 
for  making  better  :  mourn  over  the  bad  state  of  markets  ;  pride 
themselves  in  their  property,  particularly  in.  the  superiority  of 
their  circumstances  to  those  of  others  ;  speak  contemptuously  of 
the  poor  ;  panegyrize  the  rich  ;  and  irresistibly  as  well  as  univer- 
sally show,  that  in  their  view  money ^  literally  and  absolutely,  an- 


SER.  XII.]  THE  CREATOR  IN  YOUTH.  173 

swereth  all  things.  How  can  children,  before  whom  all  this  is 
perpetually  done,  who  see  wealth  thus  idolized  by  their  parents, 
and  nothing  else  considered  as  of  any  importance,  fail  of  imbibing 
from  so  venerable  a  source  the  same  idolatry.  When  they  are 
thus  early,  and  thus  efficaciously,  taught  to  serve  Mammon  ;  how 
can  they  be  expected  to  serve,  or  even  to  remember  God. 

All  these  instructions,  also,  are  enhanced  by  the  conduct  of 
the  parents.  Often  they  expend  their  property  with  extreme  re- 
luctance, even  for  purposes  plainly  useful ;  give  with  a  grudging 
hand,  when  they  give  at  all,  to  the  public,  the  stranger,  and  the 
poor  ;  decry  every  liberal  or  charitable  proposal ;  and  sneer  con- 
temptuously, and  predict  speedy  beggary  and  ruin,  concerning 
every  liberal  and  charitable  man.  On  the  other  hand,  they  rise  ear- 
ly, and  sit  up  late,  and  eat  the  bread  of  toil  and  care,  to  increase 
their  own  possessions  ;  and  in  the  language  of  their  practice 
cry,  '■''give,  give;''"'  while  neither  their  hearts,  nor  their  tongues, 
ever  say,  "  It  is  enough.''''  How  can  the  children  of  such  parents 
feel,  as  if  they  had  any  concern  with  death  or  eternity,  with  heav- 
en or  hell  ?  How  can  they  remember  God,  when  from  the  first 
commencement  of  their  understanding  they  see  him  totally  for- 
gotten by  those,  whom  they  most  reverence  and  love  ? 

There  are  other  parents,  who  in  educating  their  children  give 
the  same  place  to  the  objects  of  ambition,  which  those,  whom  I 
have  mentioned,  allot  to  wealth.  These  destine  their  children  to 
popularity,  fame,  place,  and  power.  These  children  are  taught 
perpetually,  that  their  supreme  good  lies  in  outstripping  others, 
and  acquiring  in  this  manner  the  wreath  of  reputation.  Genius, 
talents,  eloquence,  are  rung  continually  in  their  ears,  as  the 
great  instruments  of  achieving  the  coveted  prize,  and  as  posses- 
sions, therefore,  of  inestimable  value.  The  children,  on  the  one 
hand,  learn  to  idolize  these  objects  ;  and  under  the  influence  of 
parental  dotage  are  easily  persuaded,  on  the  other,  that  them- 
selves are  the  very  caskets,  in  which  these  jewels  are  treasured 
up  by  the  hand  of  nature.  Hence  they  become  lamentably,  and  of- 
ten insupportably,  vain ;  like  the  fabled  Narcissus,  they  sicken  with 
the  love  of  their  own  beauty  ;  and,  like  the  more  sottish  national 

Vol.  H.  53 


174  THE  DUTY  OF  REMEMBERING  [SER.  XII 

assembly  of  France^  dethrone  Jehovah,  and,  making  a  Goddes:' 
of  their  own  reason,  worship  it  in  his  stead. 

Should  the  children  of  the  former  class  of  parents  become 
rich,  beyond  their  most  sanguine  hopes ;  what  part  of  their 
wealth  would  they  carry  with  them  into  eternity  ;  and  what  dif- 
ference would  there  be  in  the  grave  between  them^  and  the  beg- 
gar, who  died  under  a  hedge  ?  Should  the  children  of  the  latter 
class  reach  the  pinnacle  of  fame,  and  the  summit  of  power ;  of 
what  use  would  their  talents  be,  when  they  were  summoned  to 
their  final  account ;  and  what  sort  of  distinction  would  they  pro- 
cure them  in  the  future  world  ?  Before  the  Judge  of  the  quick 
and  the  dead.,  how  melancholy  must  be  the  recital  of  talents  wrap- 
ped in  a  napkin,  and  buried  in  the  earth  ? 

There  are  parents  also,  and,  I  am  afraid,  not  less  numerous 
than  either  of  the  classes  mentioned,  who  educate  their  children 
to  fashionable  opinions,  and  practices.  The  supi'eme  object  of 
these  parents,  and  the  object  which  their  children  are  taught  to 
consider  as  supreme,  is  to  have  the  children  make  an  advanta- 
geous appearance  in  the  world.  For  this  end  they  are  taught, 
with  great  care,  and  expense,  what  are  called  accomplishments : 
such  as  fashionable  manners,  dancing,  dressing,  drawing,  music, 
and  many  other  things  of  a  similar  nature.  Their  minds,  in  the 
mean  time,  are  furnished  with  little  useful  knowledge,  with  few 
useful  habits,  and  with  no  sound  moral  principles  :  for,  unhappily, 
such  principles  have  rarely  been  fashionable.  Of  God,  and  reli- 
gion, indeed,  they  must  have  heard  ;  but  they  have  heard  of  them 
as  subjects  of  antiquated  tales ;  and  never  as  objects  of  fashion, 
nor  as  means  of  enabling  themselves  to  make  a  graceful  and 
brilliant  appearance.  The  conversationof  both  the  parents,  and 
the  cl.'ildren,  turns  chiefly,  or  wholly,  upon  the  newest  fashion  of 
dress,  furniture,  equipage,  and  manners,  and  upon  the  happy  be- 
ings, who  by  these  things  have  acquired  peculiar  distinction  in 
the  gay  world  :  upon  the  last,  or  the  next,  amusement  or  party, 
and  the  appearance,  dresses,  and  accomplishments,  of  those  who 
were,  or  will  be,  present ;  upon  the  last,  or  the  next,  play,  the 
scenery,  and  the  actors ;  and  upon  innumerable  other  trifles  of 


SER.  XII.]  THE  CREATOR  IN  YOUTH.  175 

the  same  frivolous  nature.  The  business  of  their  hfe  is  to  visit 
the  theatre,  the  drawing-room,  and  the  card-table  ;  to  dress  ;  to 
dance  ;  to  ride  ;  to  frequent  watering  places  ;  to  see  shows  ;  and 
to  fritter  away  time  in  conversation  upon  these  insignificant  ob- 
jects. Infatuated  parents !  who  thus  train  up  those,  whom  they 
professedly  love,  to  objects  of  absolute  insignificance  ;  who  teach 
them  to  cull  straws,  and  feathers,  and  never  think  of  conducting 
them  to  any  solid  or  enduring  good.  Unhappy  children  !  con- 
verted by  their  own  parents  into  intellectual  butterflies ;  and 
taught  to  spend  the  summer  of  life  in  displaying  their  pinions  to 
fhe  sun^  and  sporting  from  one  flower  and  sweet  to  another;  till 
the  melancholy  day  arrives,  when  they  can  sport  no  more.  Hap- 
py would  it  be,  could  they  know  that  there  is  a  dismal  winter  ap- 
proaching ;  a  frost,  which  will  terminate  their  sport  and  splendour 
forever. 

How  hopeless  must  children  educated  in  this  manner,  be  of 
performing  or  even  thinking  of  the  duty  enjoined  in  the  text ! 
We  may  wish  with  any  degree  of  ardency,  but  can  never  expect, 
that  a  mind,  thus  formed,  should  remember  its  Creator  ;  or  that 
God  would  take  up  his  residence  in  a  temple,  consecrated  to 
amusement  and  trifling,  and  filled  with  this  senseless  idolatry. 

Children  are  to  be  educated  to  industry,  and  taught  to  make 
the  most  of  their  talents.  When  it  is  in  our  power,  they  should 
be  educated  to  graceful  manners,  and  pleasing  accomplishments^ 
But,  whatever  else  we  do,  we  should  "  train  them  up  in  the  nur- 
ture and  admonition  of  the  Lord."  The  evil  of  these  modes  of 
education  lies  supremely  in  the  degree  of  importance^  which  we 
attach,  and  teach  them  to  attach,  to  these  objects  :  objects  in  an 
absolute  sense  of  little  value,  and  in  a  comparative  sense  of  none. 
In  this  manner  we  educate  them  either  to  sordid  avarice,  and 
equally  sordid  ambition  ;  or  to  a  despicable,  and  sinful,  frivolity  of 
mind.  In  all  these  cases  we  harden  their  hearts  against  Reli- 
gion, and  against  God.  We  teach  and  help  them  to  provide,  in- 
deed, for  a  hfe,  that  is  bounded  by  a  day  ;  for  a  character,  which 
will  expire  in  the  grave ;  and  for  a  body,  soon  to  be  devoured  by 
worms :  but  we  give  up  their  souls  to  endless  beggary,  shame, 


176  THE  DUTY  OF  REMEMBERING  [SER.  Xlf, 

and  woe.  God,  whom  we  thus  teach  them  to  forget,  will  not 
"  remember  them  in  the  day,  when  he  maketh  up  his  jewels." 
In  that  day,  how  deplorable  will  be  the  sight  of  parents  who  have 
thus  ruined  their  children,  and  children  thus  ruined  by  their  par- 
ents, going  down  together  without  consolation,  and  without 
hope,  to  one  common  perdition. 

2dly.  Another  cause^  which  very  extensively  prevents  the  per- 
formance of  this  duty^  is  Evil  Company. 

After  having  discoursed  so  lately,  and  so  extensively,  upon  this 
subject,  it  would  be  tedious,  as  well  as  unnecessary,  particularly 
to  consider  it  at  the  present  time.  I  shall  dimiss  it,  therefore,  with 
a  few,  brief  observations. 

Evil  companions  are  found  every  where  ;  are  always  at  hand  ; 
and  are  always  at  leisure  for  sin.  At  the  same  time,  they  love  com- 
pany in  iniquity.  Nay,  it  is  absolutely  necessary  to  their  comfor- 
table existence.  Solitude  renders  them  wretched  :  for  it  obliges 
them  to  look  into  their  own  hearts,  and  to  read  over  those  dark 
and  dismal  records  of  their  lives,  which  Memory  has  written 
down,  and  which  at  times  she  opens  to  the  terrified  eye  of  the 
shrinking  culprit.  Such  company,  therefore,  they  seek  with 
anxious  diligence,  allure  with  every  persuasive,  and  seduce  with 
every  art.  These  companions  root  out  every  good,  and  implant 
every  evil,  principle  ;  laugh  and  mock  at  every  serious  thought, 
and  thing ;  recommend  by  argument  exhortation,  and  exam- 
ple, every  wicked  practice  ;  ensnare  the  soul,  before  its  appre- 
hensions are  awake  ;  and  harden  the  heart  beyond  the  power  of 
every  virtuous  motive.  The  haunt,  where  they  assemble,  is  the 
way  to  hell ;  going  down  to  the  chambers  of  death. 

But  the  performance  of  this  duty  is  not  always  prevented  by 
others.  Those,  who  finally  forget  God,  often  owe  this  ruinous 
sin  chiefly  to  themselves.  Indeed,  they  always  owe  much  of  it 
to  themselves ;  for,  were  they  faithful  to  themselves,  it  vvould  be 
beyond  the  power  of  others  to  accomplish  their  ruin.  Many 
causes  of  this  class  have  a  powerful  efficacy  to  prevent  the  mind 
from  remembering  its  Creator.     I  observe,  therefore, 


*ER.  XII.]  THE  CREATOR  IN  YOUTH.  177 

3dly.   That  Profaneness  is  another  powerful  cause  of  this  evil. 

Profaneness,  beyond  almost  any  thing  else,  hardens  the  soul 
against  reverence  towards  God,  and  the  recollection  of  his  char- 
acter. When  that  glorious  and  fearful  name,  the  Lord  our 
God,  has  been  frequently  profaned  by  us  ;  we  acquire,  of  course, 
a  habit  of  thinking  concerning  this  great  and  awful  Being  with 
impious  familiarity,  and  gross  irreverence.  All  just  and  becom- 
ing ideas  concerning  his  solemn  and  tremendous  character  we 
exclude  from  our  minds.  All  loose  and  monstrous  ones  we  ad- 
mit, and  cherish.  From  the  infinite  height,  at  which  he  sits  en- 
throned above  all  beings,  we  bring  him  down  to  our  own  level ; 
and  easily  realize,  that  he  is  altogether  such  an  one  as  ourselves. 
In  this  manner  w^e  think  of  him  so  habitually,  and  so  long,  that 
we  forget  to  think  of  him  in  any  other  manner.  God  thus  be- 
comes, when  we  think  of  him  at  all,  an  object  of  sport,  and  a 
butt  of  insult ;  and  is  summoned  into  our  thoughts  only  to  be 
treated  with  abuse,  and  contempt.  No  profane  person  remem- 
-bers  his  Creator  according  to  the  meaning  of  the  text.  No  pro- 
fane person  can  remember  his  Creator.  No  profane  person  will 
ever  perform  this  duty,  until  his  own  character  is  radically  chang- 
ed ;  and  this  black  and  dreadful  stain  is  washed  out  of  his  soul. 

4thly.  Another  cause  of  this  evil,  is  Licentiousness  of  thought, 
and  conversation. 

It  is  but  too  natural  for  the  mind  of  man  to  indulge  a  licentious 
imagination  ;  to  roam  in  thought  after  the  objects,  by  which  it  is 
gratified  ;  to  recollect  the  scenes,  in  which  desires  of  this  nature 
have  been  let  loose  ;  and  to  paint  to  itself  imaginary  scenes,  still 
more  sensual  and  voluptuous.  In  this  manner  it  is  employed, 
like  an  idiot,  entering  a  city  infected  with  the  plague,  and  wan- 
dering from  house  to  house,  to  hunt  after  contagion. 

Such  a  mind,  however,  is  never  satisfied  with  mere  thought.  It 
betakes  itself,  of  course,  to  the  company  of  others,  who  love  the 
same  employment.  Here  the  children  of  perdition  mutually  com- 
municate their  thoughts  in  obscene  and  pestilential  conversation. 
Here  they  become  mutually  infected,  tainted,  and  putrid,  with  a 
moral  plague.     Here,  every  principle  from  which  moral  life  might 


178  THE  DUTY  OF  REMEMBERING  [SER.  XII. 

spring,  sickens,  and  dies.  Reproof,  instruction,  alarms,  promises, 
and  all  other  means  of  religious  impression,  addressed  to  such  a 
mind,  are  addressed  to  the  dead. 

Even  this  is  not  felt  to  be  sufficient.  To  pamper  this  rank  dis- 
position still  more,  it  wanders  after  obscene  books,  and  obscene 
pictures  ;  engines,  by  which  the  enemies  of  God  and  man  have 
contrived  extensively  to  people  the  regions  of  perdition. 

Such  a  soul  is  a  vault  of  death  ;  a  receptacle  of  rottenness  and 
pollution.  How  evidently  impossible  is  it,  that  "  He,  in  whose 
sight  the  Heavens  are  not  clean,"  should  dwell  in  such  a  man- 
sion ;  or  that  every  thought  concerning  him  should  not  instanta- 
neously expire. 

5thly.  Another  cause  of  this  evil,  furnished  to  the  mind  by  it- 
self is  Levity. 

Lightness  of  thought  always  gives  birth  to  light  and  vain  con- 
versation :  and  such  conversation  in  its  turn  begets  and  cherishes 
hghtness  of  thought.  Idle  words  of  every  kind,  produce  in  the 
soul  an  idle,  vain,  and  in  the  moral  sense  frivolous,  state  of  thought 
and  affection.  They  make  it  less  serious,  less  attentive  to  its  im- 
mortal concerns,  and  less  reverential  to  God.  This  is  pre-emi- 
nently true  of  all  jesting  with  moral  and  sacred  subjects.  He 
who  can  make  sport  of  the  Bible,  the  Sabbath,  the  house  of  God, 
religious  worship,  the  duties  of  Christianity,  and  persons  of  piety  ; 
will  soon  sport  with  God  himself.  Soon  will  he  forget,  that  he 
is  a  sinner,  and  infinitely  needs  forgiveness.  Soon  will  he  for- 
get, that  he  has  a  soul  to  be  saved  ;  and  that,  if  it  be  not  saved, 
it  must  perish  forever.  Soon  will  he  make  a  mock  at  sin  ;  lessen 
his  guilt ;  and  laugh  out  of  his  remembrance  all  his  own  obliga- 
tions to  become  holy,  and  all  his  need  of  eternal  life.  The  soul 
of  such  a  man  is  as  effectually  intoxicated  by  sport,  as  a  drunkard 
by  ardent  spirits  ;  and  loses  as  effectually  all  its  powers  of  ration- 
al thought  and  affection.  More  and  more  insensible  both  to  his 
duty  and  his  interest,  he  finally  becomes  in  the  spiritual  sense  q. 
mere  sot ;  on  whom  arguments,  exhortations,  and  motives,  how- 
.ever  earnestly  urged,  are  employed  in  vain. 


SER.  XII.]  THE  CREATOR  IN  YOUTH.  179 

I  have  now  finished  the  observations,  which  I  proposed  to 
make  under  the  three  heads,  mentioned  at  the  beginning  of  this 
discourse  ;  and  will  conclude  with  some  solemn  considerations, 
addressed  to  young  persons  in  this  assembly. 

God,  my  young  friends,  has,  at  the  present  time,  committed 
you  to  my  care  and  instruction,  as  your  minister.  His  language 
to  me,  and  to  every  other  minister  of  the  Gospel,  is,  "  Son  of  man, 
I  have  set  thee  a  watchman  unto  the  house  of  Israel.  Therefore, 
thou  shalt  hear  the  word  at  my  mouth  ;  and  warn  them  from  me. 
When  I  say  unto  the  wicked,  '  O  wicked  man,  thou  shalt  surely 
die  ;'  if  thou  dost  not  speak,  to  warn  the  wicked  from  his  way, 
that  wicked  man  shall  die  in  his  iniquity  ;  but  his  blood  will  I  re- 
quire at  thy  hand.  Nevertheless,  if  thou  warn  the  wicked  of  his 
way,  that  he  turn  from  it,  if  he  do  not  turn  from  his  way,  he  shall 
die  in  his  iniquity  ;  but  thou  hast  delivered  thy  soul.  Say  unto 
them,  '  As  I  live,  saith  the  Lord,  I  have  no  pleasure  in  the  death 
of  the  wicked,  but  that  the  wicked  turn  from  his  way,  and  live. 
Turn  ye,  turn  ye,  from  your  evil  ways  :  for  why  will  ye  die,  O 
house  of  Israel.' " 

Let  me  now  in  obedience  to  these  awful  injunctions,  sufficient- 
ly awful  to  make  every  minister  tremble  when  he  enters  the  desk, 
warn  the  wicked  in  this  house  from  their  way,  that  they  may  turn 
from  it,  and  save  their  souls  alive.  But,  however  this  event  may 
•be,  let  me  be  faithful,  and  deliver  my  own  soul :  and,  whether  you 
hear,  or  whether  you  forbear,  let  not  your  blood  be  required  at  my 
hand. 

In  these  discourses  you  have  heard  the  duty  of  remembering 
your  Creator  in  the  days  of  your  youth  explained  ;  solemn  rea- 
sons alleged  for  your  faithful  performance  of  it ;  and  several  un- 
happy causes  illustrated,  which  very  often  prevent  it  from  being 
performed.  Let  me  now  endeavour  to  impress  all  these  things 
upon  your  consciences;  and,  if  possible,  persuade  you,  that  they 
are  directed  personally  to  you. 

I  ask  you,  then,  Have  you  remembered  your  Creator  in  the 
days  of  your  youth  ?  If  you  answer  this  solemn  question  with 
the  frankness,  which  it  demands,  most  of  you  will  tell  me,  that 


1 80  THE  DUTY  OF  REMEMBERING  [SER.  XII. 

you  have  remembered  the  world,  pleasure,  and  sin  ;  but  "  have 
forgotten  the  God,  that  made  you,  and  lightly  esteemed  the  Rock 
of  your  Salvation."  Many  of  you  prove,  that  this  must  be  your 
true  answer  by  the  eagerness,  and  constancy,  with  which  you  tri- 
fle away  this  golden  period  of  life  in  pleasure,  folly,  and  sin  ;  some 
of  yjju,  by  a  stupid,  shameful  inattention  to  your  salvation,  and 
your  ruin,  in  the  house  of  God  ;  and  some  of  you  by  sleeping  the 
sleep  of  death  at  the  foot  of  the  cross.  This  is  language,  which 
a  child  cannot  misconstrue. 

I  ask  again,  When  do  you  design  to  perform  this  duty  ?  You 
will  probably  reply,  "  At  some  future  season,  which,  you  intend, 
shail  be  more  convenient ;  when  you  shall  be  less  engrossed  by 
the  objects  of  the  present  life  ;  when  your  relish  for  pleasure  shall 
be  blunted  ;  and  when  your  minds  shall  be  more  at  leisure  for  the 
concerns  of  eternity."  Are  you  sure  that  such  a  time  will  come? 
Are  you  sure  that  death  will  not  first  come,  and  blast  every  hope 
of  this  nature  ?  Are  you  sure  that  God  will  not  say  to  you,  as  he 
said  to  Hananiah  by  the  mouth  of  his  prophet,  "  This  year  thou 
shalt  die !"  Nay,  that  he  will  not  say  to  you,  as  to  the  Rich  man 
in  the  parable,  "  This  night  thy  soul  shall  be  required  of  thee  !" 
Should  this  be  done  ;  what  will  be  your  condition  ? 

But,  should  you  be  permitted  to  live,  have  you  any  sohd  rea- 
sons to  believe,  that  the  day  of  reformation  will  ever  be  nearer, 
than  it  is  now ;  particularly,  that  it  will  be  brought  nearer  by 
your  procrastination  :  that  thief,  which  steals  away  not  only  your 
time,  but  your  conscientiousness,  your  serious  impressions,  your 
resolutions ;  nay  even  your  thoughts  of  amendment,  and  your 
hopes  of  salvation.  Will  you  not  then  be  absorbed  by  avarice 
and  ambition,  as  you  are  now  by  pleasure  ?  Be  not  deceived  : 
old  age,  nay,  middle  age  ;  is  an  inauspicious,  unhappy  day  for 
repentance. 

What  are  the  reasons,  why  you  do  not  now  remember  your  Cre- 
ator? Your  own  lusts;  the  enjoyments  of  this  world;  the  temp- 
tations, which  you  spread  before  yourselves ;  the  snares,  set  for 
you  by  others ;  evil  communications,  and  evil  examples.  Will 
not  these  have  the  same  influence  upon  you,  hereafter,  which  they 


SER.  Xli.]  THE  CREATOR  IN  VOUTH.  181 

now  have  ?  Will  not  their  dominion  over  you  be  even  more  en- 
tire ?  Will  you  not  become  more  and  more  absolutely  the  bond- 
slaves of  sin,  and  of  Satan  ? 

Look  at  those,  who  have  gone  before  you.  How  evidently  are 
most  of  them  swallowed  up  in  care,  toil,  and  anxiety  ;  the  fear  of 
poverty  ;  the  love  of  place  and  power ;  sordid  covetousness  ;  and 
the  gross  indulgence  of  sensuality.  Examine  them,  man  by  man. 
Which  of  them  do  you  see  moved  by  religious  considerations  ; 
deserting  his  pleasures  ;  and  renouncing  his  sins  ?  Who  among 
them  remembers  God  ;  seeks  his  face ;  or  strives  to  enter  in  at 
the  strait  gate  ?  Who  among  them,  while  Death  is  advancing  to 
his  door,  takes  the  alarm  ?  Mark  the  miser,  with  one  foot  in  the 
grave  ;  and  you  will  see,  that,  instead  of  shuddering  at  the  sight 
of  this  melancholy  mansion,  his  mind  is  wholly  engrossed  by  new 
bargains,  and  new  gains.  Mark  the  whole  host  of  veterans  in  the 
service  of  iniquity.  Do  they  not  become  daily  more  stupid,  hard- 
ened,  and  wicked.  What  one  of  them  remembers  God  ?  Is  not 
their  day  an  evil  day  to  them  ?  Do  not  you  discern  it  to  be  an 
evil  day  ?  Believe  me,  my  young  friends,  grey  haired  sin  is  most 
obstinate  sin ;  and  grey  haired  repentance  is  a  strange  and  soli- 
tary repentance.  Who  would  hazard  his  soul  upon  such  a  plank  ? 
Who  would  venture  upon  a  gulf,  where,  ordinarily,  nothing  is 
found  but  shipwreck ;  and  where  the  shores  have  long  been  whi- 
tened by  the  bones  of  those,  who  were  lost  ? 

Some  of  you  have,  not  improbably,  grown  up  with  few,  or  no, 
religious  instructions.  Your  parents,  in  several  instances  perhaps, 
have  been  so  busied  in  acquiring  wealth,  that  they  could  not  find 
time  to  provide  for  your  salvation  ;  nor  even  to  ask  it  at  the  hands 
of  God.  This  is,  indeed,  a  melancholy  case.  Your  parents  have 
failed  of  their  first  duty  ;  and  you  have  lost  your  best  privileges. 
If  good  impressions  have  not,  bad  impressions  have,  been  made 
upon  your  hearts,  while  they  were  most  tender  and  susceptible. 
Probably  you  have  not  been  driven,  but  weaned,  from  heaven ; 
have  been  taught  to  sin  by  example,  and  been  left  to  it  by  negli- 
gence ;  have  never  learned  to  remember  God  ;  but  by  the  sight  of 
business,  bustle,  and  pleasure,  have  been  persuaded  to  say  to  him, 

Vol.  II.  24 

i 


1S2  THE  DUTY  OF  REMEMBERING  [SER.  XII. 

"  Depart  from  us :  f(»r  we  desire  not  the  knowledge  of  thy  ways." 
In  a  word,  you  are  now  suffering  the  very  evils,  which  have  been 
mentioned  in  this  discourse,  as  flowing  from  a  bad  education. 

But,  unhappy  as  this  case  is,  it  is  not  of  course  desperate.  The 
Avays  of  God  "  are  not  our  ways ;  neither  are  his  thoughts  our 
thoughts."  He  may  look  upon  your  calamities  with  an  eye  of 
peculiar  compassion  ;  may  exert  towards  you  peculiar  long  suffer- 
ing ;  and  may  spread  before  you  in  his  Providence  peculiar  mo- 
tives to  repentance.  He  took  Ahijah  to  himself  from  the  palace 
of  Jeroboam^  from  the  side  of  the  golden  calf  in  Bethel^  and  from 
the  foot  of  its  altar.  Surely,  then,  there  is  hope  for  you.  Awake 
from  the  sleep  of  sin,  and  death  ;  and  "  lay  hold  on  eternal  life." 
Feel  all  the  dangers  of  your  situation  ;  the  inestimable  worth  of 
your  souls ;  the  incomprehensible  importance  of  the  means  of 
grace,  and  the  day  of  repentance.  Remember,  that  God  is  more 
angry  with  you,  every  day,  for  every  sin  ;  and  that  at  no  distant 
time,  if  you  continue  to  harden  your  hearts,  he  will  "  swear  in  his 
wrath,  that  you  shall  not  see  his  rest." 

Others  of  you  have  had  a  happier  lot ;  have  had  religious  pa- 
rents ;  and  have  been  instructed  by  them  in  the  fear  of  God,  and 
the  knowledge  of  your  duty.  You  have  also  seen,  in  the  unde- 
ceiving evidence  of  their  lives,  that  they  believed  the  doctrines 
which  they  taught,  and  loved  the  precepts  which  they  enjoined. 
What  has  been  the  issue  of  these  privileges  ?  God  has  "  put  into 
your  hands  a  price,  to  get  wisdom."  How  plainly  have  you  been 
destitute  of  a  heart  to  the  divine  attainment !  How  obviously 
have  you  devoted  yourselves  to  worldly  pleasure  ;  forgotten  God  ; 
lightly  esteemed  Christ ;  trifled  with  your  duty  ;  and  disregarded 
your  souls  !  How  often  have  you  profaned  the  Sabbath  ;  idled, 
and  slept,  away  the  solemn  season,  consecrated  to  the  worship  of 
God  \  and  turned  a  deaf  ear  to  the^  thunders  of  the  law,  and  the 
invitations  of  the  Gospel !  How  regularly  have  you  hardened 
your  hearts  against  the  reproofs  of  your  parents ;  the  solemn 
warnings  of  the  desk ;  the  threatenings  of  the  Scriptures  ;  the 
alarms  of  Providence  ;  the  invasions  of  disease  ;  and  the  knell  of 
death  !     How  foolishly  have  you  flattered  yourselves,  that  you 


SER.  XII.]  THE  CREATOR  IN  YOUTH.  183 

could  '\hide  in  secret  places,"  so  that  God  could  not  see  you  ;  and 
said,  that  "  the  darkness  should  cover"  your  sins  from  his  sight ; 
voluntarily  forgetting,  that  he  "  fills  heaven  and  earth"  with  his 
presence,  and  that  "  the  darkness  and  the  light  are  both  alike  to 
him." 

Look  back  on  all  your  past  life  ;  and  see  whether  there  is  any 
thing  which  your  consciences  can  remember  with  comfort,  or  even 
with  hope.  Is  not  the  whole  volume  a  blank  of  good  ;  and  filled 
up  with  evil  ?  A  cumbrous  record,  written  out  only  in  melan- 
choly lines  of  sin  and  shame  :  a  story  of  guilt ;  of  hatred,  and 
forgetfulness,  of  your  Maker  ;  of  crimes  perpetrated,  and  duties 
left  undone  ;  of  sabbaths  wasted,  and  a  sanctuary  profaned  ;  of 
heaven  refused,  and  souls  cast  away  1  This  volume  must  be  read 
before  God.  All  these  things  will  be  rehearsed  to  you,  and  con- 
fessed by  you,  in  the  judgment ;  and  will  constitute  a  part  of 
those  works,  according  to  which  you  will  be  judged. 

If  this  be  your  situation  ;  your  peculiar  privileges  will  only  ag- 
gravate your  guilt,  and  your  condemnation.  You  will  have 
known  your  Lord''s  will,  and  done  it  not  ;  and  will,  therefore,  he 
beaten  with  many  stripes.. 

Awake,  then,  to  a  sense  of  your  danger.  See  Satan,  the  world, 
evil  companions,  and  many  temptations,  all  labouring  to  destroy 
you  ;  God  labouring  to  prevent  your  destruction  :  and  yourselves 
uniting  with  his  enemies,  to  accomplish  your  ruin.  How  long  do 
you  believe  he  will  permit  this  controversy  to  be  carried  on  ? 
How  long  will  it  be  before  he  will  say  of  you,  "  Ephraim  is  joined 
to  idols  :  let  him  alone  ?" 


SERMON  XIII. 

THE  YOUTH  OF  NAIN. 

Luke  vii.  11 — 15. 

And  it  came  to  pass  the  day  after ^  that  he  went  into  a  city  cal- 
led Nain^  and  many  of  his  disciples  went  with  hiniy  and  much 
people. 

Now  when  he  came  nigh  to  the  gate  of  the  city,  behold  thei^e 
was  a  dead  man  carried  out,  the  only  son  of  his  mother ;  and  she 
was  a  widow  ;  and  much  people  of  the  city  was  with  her. 

And  when  the  Lord  saw  her,  he  had  compassion  on  her,  and 
said  unto  her,  "  Weep  not."'' 

And  he  came,  and  touched  the  bier ;  and  they  that  bare  him 
stood  still.     And,  he  said.  Young  man,  "  /  say  unto  thee  Arise.''' 

And  he  that  was  dead  sat  up,  and  began  to  speak.  And  he 
delivered  him  to  his  mother. 

In  the  preceding  part  of  this  chapter  we  are  informed,  that 
our  Saviour,  entering  into  Capernaum,  was  intreated  by  a  Cen- 
turion, distinguished  for  his  unrivalled  faith  and  piety,  to  heal  his 
sick  servant.  He  accordingly  healed  him.  The  next  day  he  left 
Capernaum,  to  perform  the  duties  of  his  ministry  in  other  places. 
In  his  progress  he  passed  through  Nain,  a  city  near  to  Mount  Ta- 
bor, and  six  miles  from  Nazareth.  As  he  came  nigh  to  the  gate, 
he  met  a  funeral  procession,  following  a  youth  to  his  burial. 
This  youth  was  an  only  son  ;  and  his  mother  was  a  widow.  The 
family,  it  would  seem,  was  greatly  respected  by  the  citizens;  and 
the  event  excited  an  uncommon  degree  of  sympathy ;  for  we 
are  told,  that  much  people  of  the  city  g.ccompanied  the  mourn- 
ing parent  to  the  grave  of  her  son.. 


TiER.  XIII.]  THE  YOUTH  OF  NAIN.  185 

Our  Lord,  whose  tenderness  was  supreme,  and  whose  benevo- 
lence was  manifested  on  every  proper  occasion,  was  moved  with 
compassion  at  the  sight  of  this  afflicted  mother ;  and  directed 
her  to  weep  no  more.  Having  said  this,  he  came,  and  touched 
the  bier ;  upon  which  the  bearers  stood  still.  Then,  with  a  so- 
lemnity, and  authority,  suited  to  his  own  character,  and  exhibited 
by  him  on  every  important  occasion,  he  said,  "  Young  man,  1 
say  unto  thee,  Arise."  Accordingly  he  arose,  and  sat  up,  and 
began  to  speak.     Our  Lord  then  delivered  him  to  his  mother. 

We  cannot  wonder,  that  a  miracle  of  such  a  nature,  perform- 
ed before  such  a  concourse,  should  be  followed  by  great  fear  in 
all  those  who  were  witnesses  of  it ;  that  they  should  glorify  God  ; 
that  they  should  cry  out,  "  A  great  prophet  has  arisen  up  among 
us,  and  God  has  visited  his  people  ;"  or  that  the  fame  of  this  glo- 
rious transaction,  and  its  divine  author,  should  suddenly  "  spread 
throughout  all  Judea,  and  throughout  all  the  region  round  about." 

This  is  the  first  instance,  in  which  Christ  exhibited  to  the  world 
the  life-giving  power,  challenged  by  him  in  the  5th  chapter  of 
John  as  his  personal  prerogative.  "  As  the  father,"  saith  he, 
"  raiseth  up,  and  quickeneth,  even  so  the  Son  quickeneth,"  that 
is,  giveth  life  to,  "  whomsoever  he  will."  This  stupendous  pow- 
er he  afterwards  exercised  in  various  instances ;  particularly  on 
the  daughter  of  Jairus,  on  Lazarus,  and  on  himself. 

This  story  is  in  many  respects  interesting  and  instructive. 
The  very  manner,  in  which  it  is  related,  is  remarkably  beautiful 
and  affecting.  It  is  told  with  the  utmost  degree  of  that  simplici- 
ty, which  is  a  prime  ingredient  in  all  fine  narration.  The  cir- 
cumstances are  selected  with  singular  felicity,  and  are  pre-emi- 
nently fitted  to  touch  the  heart.  The  miracle  itself  was  of  the 
most  glorious  kind  conceivable.  It  was  equally  wonderful  and 
benevolent.  It  was  the  first  fruit  of  that  divine  power,  which 
will  hereafter  be  displayed  in  a  manner  still  more  awful  and  ama- 
zing at  the  final  day  :  "  when  all,  that  are  in  their  graves,  shall 
hear  the  voice  of  the  Son  of  man,  and  shall  come  forth  ;  they, 
that  have  done  good,  to  the  resurrection  of  hfe  ;  and  they,  that 
have  done  evil,  to  the  resurrection  of  damnation,"    It  was  a 


J  86  THE  YOUTH  OF  NAIN.  [SER.  XHI. 

miracle,  clear  of  all  objections.  The  occasion  was  casual.  No 
concert  between  Christ  and  the  people  can  be  supposed.  No 
harmony  of  designs,  or  wishes,  can  be  suspected.  The  miracle 
was  performed  in  the  most  public  manner,  before  a  great  assem- 
bly, composed  of  those,  who  were  either  indifferent,  or  hostile,  to 
the  character  of  the  Redeemer.  The  event  was  unexceptiona- 
hly  miraculous.  The  youth  was  dead  ;  and  was  summoned  back 
to  life  by  a  command.  The  facts  were  seen  by  this  great  multi- 
tude ;  and  were  acknowledged  by  them  in  a  manner  solemn,  re- 
ligious, and  unequivocal.  One  would  think,  therefore,  that  the 
transaction  would  be  received  at  once  as  a  proof  of  the  mission, 
and  the  divinity  of  our  Saviour. 

My  intention,  however,  is,  to  derive  from  this  narrative  a  train 
of  considerations,  widely  different  from  all  these.  I  propose  in 
this  discourse  to  consider  the  miracle  in  question  as  a  work  of 
Christ,  strongly  symbolical  of  one  much  more  interesting,  which 
by  his  Spirit  he  performs  on  various  persons,  generally  in  the 
same  circumstances,  as  this  young  man. 

There  is  a  death,  which  all  young  men  die  in  the  present  world  ; 
a  state  of  the  soul,  which  God  himself  has  thought  it  proper  to 
call  by  this  name.  He  declares  mankind  to  be  "  dead  in  tres- 
passes and  sins."  There  is  a  hfe,  which  some  of  them  obtain ; 
a  spiritual  life ;  the  beginning,  and  the  security,  of  life  immortal. 
To  all  these  Christ  is  the  source  of  life  as  truly,  as  to  the  youth  of 
Nain.  From  him  must  they  receive  it,  if  they  receive  it  at  all ; 
fiom  the  same  compassionate  Saviour,  who,  passing  by,  sees  them 
spiritually  dead,  and  says  to  each  of  them,  "  Young  man,  I  say 
unto  thee.  Arise."  With  this  design  I  shall  address  to  the  assem- 
bly before  me  the  following  considerations. 

1st.  Every  youths  who  is  thus  raised  to  life,  is,  before  this  res- 
urrection, spiritually  dead. 

By  this  I  intend,  that  all  such  youths  are  impenitent,  unbeliev- 
ing, sinners.  This  is  the  true  character,  the  real  condition,  of 
every  youth  in  this  assembly,  who  has  not  been  raised  to  spiritual 
life.  It  is  not  here  intended,  merely,  that  you  are  impenitent  and 
unbelieving.     It  is  further  intended,  that  you  are  permanently  of 


SER.  XIII.]  THE  YOUTH  OF  NAIN.  187 

this  character  ;  that  you  are  fixed,  and  obstinate  ;  that  you  have 
a  hard  heart,  and  a  Wind  mind ;  a  heart  hard,  a  mind  Wind,  in 
its  very  nature.  The  universal  state  of  your  views,  affections, 
and  conduct,  is  a  steady  aUenation  from  God,  an  immoveable  op- 
position to  his  pleasure.  You  are  not  casually  sinners  ;  yielding 
to  sudden  and  powerful  temptation,  in  the  weak,  unguarded 
hour,  and  in  circumstances  pecuharly  dangerous.  You  are  sin- 
ners of  design  ;  of  contrivance  ;  with  premeditation  ;  from  habit ; 
and  without  mixture. 

Do  you  receive  this  charge  as  untrue,  as  unkind,  or  even  as 
doubtful  ?  Look  back,  I  beseech  you,  upon  the  whole  course  of 
your  lives  ;  and  tell  me,  if  you  can  remember  a  single  day,  in 
which  you  have  faithfully  obeyed  God,  believed  in  the  Redeemer, 
or  repented  of  your  sins.  If  you  answer  honestly,  you  will  con- 
fess, in  spite  of  all  your  wishes  to  the  contrary,  that  there  has 
been  no  such  day  in  your  lives.  Let  me  ask  you  further,  can  you 
remember  a  single  instance,  in  which  you  have  performed  either 
of  these  duties?  Has  there  been  a  single  hour  in  your  lives,  in 
which  you  have  experienced  such  views  and  affections,  as  the 
Scriptures  declare  to  be  the  true  characteristics  of  the  children 
of  God  ?  Have  you  ever  for  a  moment  loved  God  with  all  the 
heart  ?  Have  you  ever  chosen  Christ  as  your  Saviour,  and  with 
cheerful  confidence  given  yourselves  to  him  as  his  disciples. 
Have  you  ever  loved  to  hear  his  voice,  to  walk  faithfully  in  his 
ordinances,  and  humbly  to  follow  his  example.  Have  you  ever 
hated  sin,  mourned  for  it,  confessed  it  before  God,  and  resolved 
to  forsake  it  ?  Have  you  actually  and  intentionally  forsaken  it 
for  a  single  hour  ? 

Have  you  ever  esteemed  the  Sabbath  a  delight,  and  the  Sanc- 
tuary honourable  P  Have  you  ever,  even  once,  entered  your 
closets,  shut  the  door,  and  prayed  to  your  Father,  who  is  in  se- 
cret ?  Is  there  in  the  book,  out  of  which  you  will  be  judged,  a 
single  faithful,  fervent  prayer  of  yours  recorded  ;  a  prayer,  which 
you  will  be  able  to  rehearse,  and  God  to  acknowledge,  at  the  final 
dav  ?   . 


188  THE  YOUTH  OF  NAIN.  [SER.  XIII, 

If  these  things  have  ever  been  true  of  you,  even  for  a  single 
hour ;  they  are  true  of  you  now.  You  are  now  sincere  penitents, 
sincere  believers,  and  real  children  of  God.  Were  God,  by  an 
audible  voice  from  heaven  to  answer  these  questions;  what,  think 
you,  would  be  his  tcslirnony  ?  How  will  they  be  answered  at 
that  judgment,  which  will  determine  the  state  of  your  souls  for- 
ever ?  Should  that  judgment  begin  this  day ;  would  not  these 
very  considerations  fill  your  minds  with  amazement  and  horror? 
You  have  been  often  reproved.  In  what  manner  have  you  re- 
ceived this  reproof?  Have  you  received  it  with  tenderness  and 
submission,  with  sorrow  for  your  transgressions  and  serious  de- 
terminations to  sin  no  more  ?  Or  have  you  been  indifferent ; 
stupid  ;  your  heads  laid  down  to  sleep  ;  and  your  minds  destitute 
of  all  concern  about  your  salvation,  and  all  regard  to  your  Ma- 
ker, and  Redeemer?  Have  you  not  in  your  own  view  "  harden- 
ed your  necks,  and  deserved  to  be  suddenly  destroyed,  and  that 
without  remedy  ?" 

I  am  not  proposing  the  case  of  strangers.  The  character  be- 
longs eminently  to  you.  No  assembly  of  youths  probably  con- 
tains and  exhibits  higher  proofs  of  these  truths,  than  this.  Your 
advantages  for  attaining  spiritual  life  have  been  exceeded  by 
none.  The  instructions,  calls,  warnings  and  reproofs,  of  the 
Scriptures  have  been  often,  and  most  solemnly,  repeated  to  you. 
You  have  had  "  line  upon  line,  and  precept  upon  precept."  What 
has  been  their  effect  ?    What  has  God  seen  it  to  be  ? 

I  am  neither  disposed  to  deny,  nor  to  doubt,  that  some  of  you 
may,  at  times,  have  been  solemnized  ;  or  that  some  of  you  may 
in  a  slight  degree,  and  for  a  short  period,  have  meditated  on  a 
change  of  life.  You  may  in  such  cases  have  wondered  at  your 
former  stupidity  ;  and  seriously  thought,  perhaps  resolved,  to  be- 
gin the  work  of  salvation.  All  this,  however,  you  have  spon  for- 
gotten. Again  you  have  betaken  yourselves  to  the  same  courses 
of  sin ;  cherished  the  same  lusts ;  yielded  to  the  same  tismpta- 
tions ;  and  given  yourselves  up  to  the  same  hardness  of  heart. 

Some  of  you,  probably,  have  not  advanced  even  so  far  as  this  ; 
but  in  an  uniform,  quiet  course  of  wickedness  have  heard,  but  not 


SER.  XIIL]  THE  YOUTH  OF  NAIN.  189 

attended  ;  have  thought  but  without  emotion  ;  and  have  pursued 
sin,  without  an  alarm,  a  resolve,  or  even  a  solemn  reflection.  Al- 
most all  of  you,  (and  to  your  own  consciencs  be  the  appeal  for 
the  truth  of  the  charge)  are  mere  children  of  this  world.  Instead 
of  being  seriously  concerned  for  your  salvation,  you  are  not  even 
thoughtful :  instead  of  repenting,  you  sin  with  new  eagerness : 
instead  of  believing  in  Christ,  you  treat  him  with  contempt:  in- 
stead of  yielding  to  the  life-giving  influence  of  the  Spirit  of  grace, 
"  you  always,"  like  the  Jews  of  old,  "  resist  the  Holy  Ghost :"  in- 
stead of  "  loving  God  with  aU  the  heart,  and  soul,  and  strength, 
and  mind,"  you  say  to  him  daily,  "  Depart  from  us :  for  we  desire 
not  the  knowledge  of  thy  ways."  In  the  house  of  God  your  true 
character  is  discovered,  with  an  evidence  which  cannot  be  ques- 
tioned. The  holy,  heavenly,  season,  which  God  has  mercifully 
appointed  for  the  attainment  of  eternaUife,  you  spend  in  a  man- 
ner, which  unanswerably  proves  your  ignorance,  your  voluntary 
forgetfulness,  that  "  God  is  in  very  deed  in  this  place."  Imme- 
diately beneath  the  all-searching  eye  of  Him,  who  has  command- 
ed you  to  keep  the  Sabbath  holy,  and  to  reverence  the  sanctuary, 
you  quietly  lie  down  to  sleep  ;  or  wake,  only  to  loll,  to  sport,  to 
stare,  to  whisper,  and  to  wander  in  your  thoughts  and  affections, 
with  "  the  fool's  eyes,  to  the  ends  of  the  earth."  In  all  these 
ways  you  proclaim  to  every  observing  eye  your  absolute  disregard 
to  God  and  your  own  souls,  to  life  and  death,  to  heaven  and  hell. 
Nor  is  this  your  conduct  at  times  only  ;  under  the  pressure  of 
peculiar  temptation  ;  or  in  seasons  of  peculiar  languor  and  stu- 
pidity. It  is  repeated  from  week  to  week,  and  from  the  begin- 
ning of  the  year  to  its  end.  The  Sabbath  has  always  found  you 
thus  stupid  and  worldly.  These  walls  have  always  witnessed  this 
wretched  course  of  sin,  from  the  time  when  you  first  entered 
them.  The  God,  who  inhabits  them,  will  be  a  tremendous  wit- 
ness, that  these  declarations  are  true,  at  the  final  day.  How  evi- 
dently, while  continuing  in  this  deplorable  state,  are  you  "  with- 
out God,  and  without  hope,  in  the  world." 

Among  the  evils,  which  attend  your  miserable  condition,  none 
is  immediately  more  dreadful  than  this  ;  You  know  neither  your 

Vol.  II.  25 


190  tHE  YOUTH  OF  NAIN!  tSEK.  XIII, 

guilt,  nor  your  danger.     Nay,  you  are  utterly  unwilling  to  be  in- 
formed of  your  situation  ;  or  to  believe  the  information,  when  it 
is  given.     You  say  daily  in  your  hearts,  with  the  church  of  La- 
odicea^  "  I  am  rich,  and  increased  with  goods,  and  have  need  of 
nothing:"  and,  like  the  members  of  that  church  also,  "  know  not, 
that  you  are  wretched,  and  miserable,  and  poor,  and  blind,  and 
naked."  Christ  with  infinite  compassion  has  called  you,  from  the 
morning  of  life,  to  faith  and  repentance.     He  is  even  now  saying, 
"  How  often  would  I  have  gathered  you,  as  a  hen  gathereth  her 
chickens  under  her  wings ;  but  ye  would  not."     The  day  is  has- 
tening, when  you  will  hear  him  proclaim  with  a  voice  of  thunder, 
"  Because  I  have  called,  and  ye  refused  ;  I  have  stretched  out  my 
hand,  and  no  man  regarded :  but  ye  have  set  at  naught  all  my 
counsel,  and  would  none  of  my  reproof :  I  also  will  laugh  at  your 
calamity ;  I  will  mock  when  your  fear  cometh ;  when  your  fear 
cometh  as  desolation,  and  your  destruction  as  a  whirlwind  ;  when 
distress  and  anguish  cometh  upon  you.    Then  shall  they  call  upon 
me,  but  I  will  not  answer  ;  they  shall  seek  me  early,  but  they  shall 
not  find  me  :  for  that  they  hated  knowledge,  and  did  not  choose 
the  fear  of  the  Lord."     The  day  is  coming,  when  you  will  sleep 
beneath  the  eye  of  God  no  more.     The  day  is  coming,  in  which 
you  will  neither  sport,  nor  whisper,  in  his  presence.     Then  you 
will  hsten,  but  not  to  the  calls  of  mercy.     Then  you  will  "  call  to 
the  rocks,  and  to  the  mountains,  to  fall  on  you,  and  hide  you  from 
the  wrath  of  the  Lamb." 

In  the  spiritual  death,  with  which  you  are  afl^icted,  there 
is,  in  many  particulars,  a  strong  resemblance  to  what  is 
termed  natural  death.  Of  all  those,  who  labour  under  incur- 
able diseases,  which  mock  the  utmost  skill  of  the  physician, 
and  defy  the  power  of  the  most  balsamic  remedies,  we  customa- 
rily say,  that  they  are  gone.  This  we  often  say,  while  life  yet  re- 
mains ;  and  while,  perhaps,  there  are  some  means,  unknown  to 
us,  by  which,  if  administered  in  season,  they  might  still  live. 
There  are  also  cases,  in  which,  by  swooning  or  by  fits,  life  ap- 
pears to  have  vanished,  but  in  which  by  means  of  skilful  applica- 
tions it  may  nevertheless  be  restored.     There  are  other  cases  still. 


SER.  XIII.]  THE  YOUTH  OF  NAIN.  191 

in  which  it  has  finally  departed ;  and  has  left  nothing  behind,  but 
a  corpse  ;  to  which  the  animating  principle  will  return  no  more. 

All  these  diversities  exist  in  spiritual  death.  Among  those, 
who  are  thus  dead,  there  are  some,  who  may  be  restored,  if  the 
balsam  of  life  should  be  administered  in  time  by  the  great  Physi- 
cian. Of  these  it  cannot  be  truly  said,  that  all  hopes  of  their  res- 
toration are  gone  forever.  Of  some  there  are  hopes,  that  life 
may  yet  return,  and  reanimate  their  souls.  The  remedy,  howev- 
er, lies  not  within  the  skill  of  man.  Christ  alone  can  save  them 
from  dying  forever. 

But  there  are  others,  who  are  not  only  apparently,  but  finally, 
dead.  These,  indeed,  we  are  unable  to  distinguish  from  others, 
who  are  in  a  state  less  desperate.  Nor  was  it  intended,  nor  is  it 
necessary,  that  we  should  thus  distinguish  them.  Every  one  may 
know,  and  if  he  open  his  eyes  cannot  but  know,  that,  so  long  as 
he  exhibits  no  signs  of  returning  life,  he  is  now  dead.  His  soul  is 
a  corpse.  Life  has  gone  from  it.  It  has  become  putrid  ;  loath- 
some ;  and,  to  the  eye  of  God,  "  an  abomination,  which  he  can- 
not away  with."  Should  this  continue  to  be  its  condition  ;  it  will 
soon  be  buried  in  the  eternal  grave  ;  the  seat  of  endless  darkness, 
solitude  and  corruption.  Who,  let  me  ask,  of  the  present  assem- 
bly is  in  this  dreadful  condition  ? 

You  cannot  say,  you  cannot  believe,  that  you  have  not  been 
warned  of  your  danger.  Sabbath  by  sabbath  you  have  been  ad- 
monished, in  the  presence  of  God,  to  awake  from  your  sleep,  and 
arise  from  the  dead  that  you  might  receive  from  the  hands  of 
Christ  the  light  of  life.  But  you  can  say,  and  will  one  day  be 
forced  to  say,  that  "you  have  set  at  naught  all  this  counsel  of 
God,  and  despised  his  reproof."  In  the  presence  of  that  awful 
Being  you  loudly  declare,  that  "  you  will  not  have  him  to  reign 
over  you."  "  Who,"  you  boldly  ask,  "  is  the  Almighty,  that  we 
should  serve  him  ?"  Of  all  this  your  conduct  furnishes  flaming 
proof ;  proof,  which  cannot  be  unseen,  which  cannot  be  mistaken. 
Who,  that  sees  you  sleep,  and  whisper,  and  nod,  and  point  to 
others  ;  and  laugh,  and  loll,  and  read  books  of  diversion  ;  and  do 
any  thing,  and  every  thing,  rather  than  spend  your  time  in  wor- 


192  THE  YOUTH  OF  NAIN.  [SfiR.  XHI. 

shipping  God,  and  seeking  salvation,  could  imagine,  that  your 
Creator,  Preserver,  and  Judge,  was  present  to  see  himself,  his 
Son,  his  Spirit,  his  Word,  his  Ordinances,  thus  insulted  ?  Who 
could  believe^  that  these  were  creatures,  now  in  a  state  of  proba- 
t'ron ;  soon  to  die  ;  soon  to  be  judged  by  that  God  ;  and  soon  to 
enter  on  a  state  of  everlasting  reward  for  this  very  conduct  ? 
Who,  much  more,  could  imagine,  that  every  one  of  them  per- 
fectly knew  all  these  awful  truths  ? 

Who  could  believe,  that  every  one  of  them  had  been  taught 
the  doctrines  and  duties  of  Religion  by  the  tenderest,  and  most 
affectionate,  of  all  human  instructors ;  their  own  beloved  parents? 
Who  could  believe,  that  they  began  to  be  taught  the  existence,, 
character  and  presence,  of  God  ;  their  own  sin,  danger  and  du- 
ty ;  the  way  of  salvation  by  Christ ;  the  glory  of  heaven,  and  the 
miseries  of  hell ;  from  the  cradle  ;  and  that,  ever  since  they  could 
understand  any  thing  of  a  moral  nature,  they  have  heard  them 
all  repeated  weekly  in  the  house  of  their  Maker  ?  Such,  however, 
has  been  the  fact.  They  have  all  been  thus  taught,  and  repeat- 
ed ;  and  your  stupidity  has  long  overcome  them  all.  It  is  there- 
fore, deep,  fixed,  and  dreadful.  It  has  been  assumed  also,  and 
cherished,  in  spite  of  all  the  blessings,  in  defiance  of  all  the  warn- 
ings, of  God's  providence ;  of  your  own  dangers,  distresses  and 
deliverances.  You  have  been  cultivated  with  no  common  care . 
and  have  been  reasonably  expected  to  bring  forth  good  and 
abundant  fruit.  What  reason  have  you  to  tremble,  lest  God 
should  speedily  say  ;  nay  lest  he  should  now  say ;  "  Behold  these 
three  years  I  come,  seeking  fruit  on  this  fig-tree,  and  find  none. 
Cut  it  down  :  why  cumbereth  it  the  ground  V 

II.  There  is  still  room  to  hope  that  among  you  there  may  in 
the  end  he  found  some  youths  of  Nain  ;  some,  who,  though  noio 
dead,  and  to  the  human  eye  lost  and  gone  forever,  may  yet  he 
restored  to  life. 

Christ  is  alway  passing  by,  alway  pursuing  the  glorious  pur- 
poses of  his  mercy.  It  cannot,  I  trust,  be  a  presumptuous  hope, 
that  towards  some,  towards  at  least  a  few  of  this  assembly,  he 
may  exercise  his  boundless  compassion :    and   before  they  go 


1 


SER.  XIII.]  THE  YOUTH  OF  NAIN.  193 

hence,  to  be  no  more  seen,  and  no  more  invited  to  embrace  eter- 
nal life,  may  say  unto  each  of  this  little  number,  "  Young  man, 
arise."  It  is  true,  you  have  long  "denied  him,"  and  are  now 
"  ashamed  to  confess  him,  before  men."  It  is  true,  that  you  des- 
pise his  character,  disregard  his  mission,  reject  his  instructions, 
disobey  his  precepts,  and  contemn  his  ordinances.  It  is  true, 
that  you  insult  his  goodness  and  mercy,  trample  on  his  cross,  and 
renew  his  agonies.  But  "  the  ways  of  Christ  are  not  your  ways. 
As  the  heavens  are  higher  than  the  earth,  so  are  his  ways  higher 
than  your  ways,  and  his  thoughts  than  your  thoughts."  Hence, 
notwithstanding  all  your  rebellion,  and  all  your  stupidity  he  has 
cried  from  the  beginning,  and  still  cries,  "  Seek  ye  the  Lord, 
while  he  may  be  found,  call  ye  upon  him,  while  he  is  near.  Let 
the  wicked  man  forsake  his  way,  and  the  unrighteous  man  his 
thoughts,  and  let  him  return  unto  the  Lord  ;  for  he  will  have 
mercy  upon  him,  and  to  our  God  ;  for  he  will  abundantly  par- 
don." He  died,  with  the  complete  foreknowledge  of  all  the  guilt 
and  grossness  which  I  have  rehearsed  :  yet  he  died.  The  Spirit 
of  Grace  began  to  strive,  with  the  same  foreknowledge  of  the 
same  guilt.  Still  he  strives  with  you.  Still  with  a  voice,  sweeter 
than  that  of  angels,  he  whispers  to  you  daily,  "  Turn  ye,  turn  ye, 
why  will  ye  die  ?"  It  is,  therefore,  no  unreasonable  thing  to  hope, 
that,  notwithstanding  the  blessings  which  you  have  abused,  have 
been  very  great,  notwithstanding  your  sins  are  of  no  common 
dye,  Christ  may  still  extend  mercy  to  some  of  your  number  ;  and 
may  say  to  one,  and  another,  "  Young  man,  arise." 

But  who  shall  these  be  ?  Who  shall  be  those,  to  whom  he  will 
not  say  this  ?  Which  of  you  is  prepared  to  have  him  leave  you 
entirely  ?  During  the  ministry  of  Christ  there  were  in  Jndea  many 
youths,  who  died.  Of  these  possibly  not  one  was  recalled  to  life. 
Their  dust  was  left  by  him  to  "  return  to  the  earth  as  it  was,  and 
their  spirits  to  ascend  to  God,  who  gave  them."  The  allusion 
needs  no  comment. 

Suppose  this  glorious  person,  this  divine  Redeemer,  to  be  once 
more  present  in  the  world  ;  and  to  come  into  this  assembly  ;  to 
pass  through  yonder  aisle ;  and  to  say  to  one,  and  another,  of 


1 94  THE  YOUTH  OF  NAIN.  [SER.  XIH. 

the  youths  before  me,  "  Young  man,  I  say  unto  thee,  Arise," 
What  emotions  would  spring  up  in  the  minds  of  those,  who  were 
neglected  and  forgotten  ?  Would  you  then  loll  in  stupid  inatten- 
tion ;  lay  down  your  heads,  as  if  benumbed  with  the  torpor  of 
an  opiate  ;  and  sleep  the  sleep  of  Death  ?  Would  you  then  turn 
the  house  of  God  into  a  chamber  of  amusement ;  cast  a  rolling 
stare  around  the  assembly  ;  whisper  to  one  of  your  companions  ; 
laugh  with  another  ;  and  play  tricks  with  a  third.  Or  would  you 
take  out  of  your  pockets  a  sportive  book ;  and  waste  the  golden 
hours  of  life  over  a  play,  or  a  novel  ? 

On  the  contrary,  would  not  all  the  powers  of  your  souls  be 
awake  ?  Would  you  not  sit  in  dreadful  suspense,  till  the  solemn 
calls  were  finished  ;  and  in  more  dreadful  agitation,  when  they 
wore  over :  while  Christ  and  hope  withdrew  together,  to  return 
no  more  ?  What  an  awful  alarm  would  the  very  news,  that  he  was 
thus  commg,  sound  in  your  ears  ?  How  strongly  would  the  ti- 
dings resemble  the  sound  of  the  last  trumpet,  calling  to  the  dead 
to  awake  to  the  final  judgment.  At  his  entrance,  how  would  ev- 
ery eye  be  fixed  on  him  in  solemn  amazement,  and  bewildered 
terror  ?  How  would  the  ear  listen,  and  labour,  to  catch  his  voice? 
How  would  the  heart  of  him,  who  was  passed  by,  beat,  and 
throb,  and  heave,  with  agonizing  throes,  to  behold  one,  and  an- 
other, and  another,  called ;  and  no  sweet,  life-giving  sound  ad- 
dressed to  himself?  How  fearfully  would  every  new  name  seem 
to  be  the  last ;  and  leave  on  the  mind  no  faint  image  of  the  des- 
pair, awakened  by  the  sentence  of  reprobation  at  the  final  day  ? 

But  Christ  is  now  present  in  this  assembly.  Hear  his  own 
words,  "  Wherever  two  or  three  are  met  together  in  my  name, 
there  am  1  in  the  midst  of  them."  On  this  very  design  is  he  come. 
His  great  business,  here,  is  to  call  one  and  another  from  the  dead. 
He  has  in  this  land,  he  has  in  this  Seminary,  actually  raised 
multitudes  from  spiritual  death ;  and  endued  them  with  that  life, 
which  is  the  beginning  of  immortal  life  in  the  heavens.  In  one 
place,  and  another,  immense  multitudes  have  heard  and  obeyed 
his  voice.  All  these  have  opened  their  ears  to  inhale  the  enchant- 
ing ^ound  ;  and  cried  out  with  ecstasy,  "  Lord,  we  will  follow  thee 
whithersoever  thou  goest." 


SER.  XIII.J  THE  YOUTH  OF  NAIN.  195 

But  now  no  alarms  are  felt  concerning  the  state  of  death  and 
ruin,  so  generally  experienced.  No  voice  reftriimates,  no  voice 
awakens,  this  assembly.  A  paralytic  torpor  has  seized  on  their 
faculties;  and  stopped  the  current  of  consciousness,  motion,  and 
life.  In  vain  the  law  thunders  the  terrors  of  Mount  Sinai.  In 
vain  it  proclaims  the  more  awful  terrors  of  the  finul  day.  In  vain 
the  Gospel  sounds  with  the  spirit  of  heaven.  In  vain  the  inhab- 
itants of  that  world  sing  the  celestial  song,  "  Behold,  I  bring  you 
glad  tidings  of  great  joy,  which  shall  be  unto  all  people  :  for  un- 
to you  is  born,  this  day,  in  the  city  of  David,  a  Saviour,  who  is 
Christ  the  Lord."  In  vain  this  divine  Saviour  becomes  incar- 
nate, lives,  and  acts,  heals  the  sick,  cleanses  the  leper,  and  raises 
the  dead,  before  your  eyes.  In  vain  he  presents  his  perfect  ex- 
ample :  a  glorious  copy  of  the  divine  character ;  a  sun,  without 
a  spot ;  a  heaven,  without  a  cloud ;  the  splendour  of  immortal 
and  uncreated  light.  In  vain  he  utters  the  wisdom,  treasured  up 
from  eternity  in  the  Self  existent  Mind.  In  vain  he  agonizes  in 
the  garden  of  Gethsemane,  and  sweats  drops  of  blood.  In  vain 
he  ascends  the  cross,  opens  his  wounds,  and  yields  his  spirit  into 
the  hands  of  his  Father.  In  vain  he  bursts  the  tomb,  rises  from 
the  dead,  and  ascends  "  to  the  right  hand  of  the  Majesty  on 
high."  All  this  fails,  not  merely  to  engross  the  soul,  but  even  to 
rouse  attention.  The  soul  is  asleep;  the  faculties  are  benumbed  ; 
the  senses  have  lost  their  power  of  perception  ;  the  heart  has 
forgotten  to  feel,  and  the  pulse  to  beat.  All  around  is  a  charnel 
house  ;  a  place  of  graves  ;  a  region  of  silence,  oblivion,  and  des- 
pair. He,  who  beholds  the  scene,  is  tempted  irresistibly  to  ex- 
claim, "  Can  these  dry  bones  live  ?" 

The  joy  of  heaven  over  repenting  sinners  has  ceased  to  be  re- 
newed here.  From  this  Seminary  no  tidings  of  faith  and  repen- 
tance, in  those  who  inhabit  its  walls,  reach  the  world  above.  In 
that  happy  region,  where  the  tidings  of  a  returning  sumer  awa- 
ken a  sublime  and  universal  festival,  all  is  solemn  silence  con- 
cerning us ;  accompanied,  perhaps,  with  a  despair  of  seeing 
their  society  enlarged  by  new  accessions  of  sanctified  minds,  from 
this  once  highly  favoured  place. 


1 96  THE  YOUTH  OF  NAIN.  [SER.  XHL 

A  small  number  of  years,  only,  have  passed  away  since  this 
Seminary  was  probably  more  distinguished  for  its  piety,  in  pro- 
portion to  its  numbers,  than  any  other  at  that  time,  in  the  Chris- 
tian world.  Then  this  house  was  the  most  solemn,  as  well  as 
most  delightful  place,  and  contained  the  most  interesting  con- 
gregation, which  I  have  been  permitted  to  behold.  Then  the 
Word  of  God,  the  good  seed  from  heaven,  was  sown  upon  "  good 
ground,  and  sprang  up,  and  bore  fruit,  thirty,  sixty,  and  an  hun- 
dred fold."  It  is  now  "a  way  side;  a  stony  ground  ;"  a  plat  of 
thorns  and  briers  ;  where  the  good  seed  cannot  spring ;  or  where, 
if  it  springs,  it  cannot  grow. 

Still  there  may  be  hope  even  concerning  us.  Our  wilderness 
may  yet  become  a  fruitful  Jj  eld.  The  heavens  may  again  "  drop 
down  from  above  •,  the  skies  pour  down  righteousness  ;  and  the 
earth  open,  and  bring  forth  salvation."  Therefore,  also  now 
saith  the  Lord,  "  Turn  ye  even  to  me,  with  all  your  heart,  and 
with  fasting,  and  with  weeping  and  with  mourning,  and  rend  your 
hearts,  and  not  your  garments,  and  turn  unto  the  Lord,  your 
God  :  for  he  is  gracious,  and  merciful,  slow  to  anger,  and  of 
great  kindness,  and  repenteth  him  of  the  evil."  "  Who  know- 
eth  if  he  will  return,  and  repent,  and  leave  a  blessing  behind  him?" 

in.  For  the  accomplishment  of  this  great  end  ^  this  restora- 
tion to  spiritual  life  ;  it  is  indisjjen sable,  that  such,  as  desire  to 
be  interested  in  it,  should  begin  a  total  change  of  their  conduct. 

Look  back  upon  your  past  lives ;  and  you  will  want  nothing 
to  convince  you,  either  of  the  truth,  or  the  importance,  of  this 
declaration.  You  will  there  see,  that  you  have  hitherto  taken 
no  measures,  no  care,  no  thought,  to  obtain  spiritual  life.  Were 
Christ  to  be  present,  and  to  unfold  your  situation,  would  he  not 
of  course  declare,  that,  hitherto,  you  generally  have  not  made 
this  mighty  concern  the  subject  even  of  solemn  conversation ; 
nay,  not  even  of  sober  reflection.  Recur  to  your  thoughts  con- 
cerning it  ;  if  you  have  indeed  had  such  thoughts.  How  few 
have  they  been  ;  how  rare ;  how  momentary ;  how  fruitless  ! 
Recur  to  your  efforts.  Can  you  realize,  that  any  such  have  been 
made?  Can  you  tell  what  they  were?  Can  you  remember  them? 


SEK.  XIII.]  THK  YOUTH  OF  NAIN.  J97 

Can  you  find  them  ?  V"  <<>  your  prayers.  When  were  tiiey 
ollbrcd  up?  Can  you  hi  iJl  llie  times?  Can  you  recollect  iiio 
places?  When  has  the  Rible  l)een  searched  hy  you  for  the  words 
of  eternal  life?  When  has  Gon  found  you  in  your  closets? 
When  has  he  heard  you  ask  for  mercy  in  his  House?  When  have 
you  adopted  solemn  meditation  ;  formed  serious  resolutioi  s;  and 
attempted  a  real  amendment  of  your  lives  ?  When  have  you  re- 
nounced the  world  ;  quitted  your  evil  companions;  reliniuished 
your  sins  ;  and  cast  yourselves  upon  the  mercy  of  Goo  ?  When 
have  you  trembled  at  the  a[)proach  of  perdition,  and  sighod,  and 
cried  for  deliverance  from  the  wrath  to  come  ?  Wiien  have  you 
turned  your  backs  upon  destruction,  and  your  faces  towards  heav- 
en ?  Will  not  the  single  word.  Never,  be  the  true  but  melancholy 
answer  to  all  these  questions  ?  Do  not  you  yourselves  see,  that 
you  are  spiritually  dead,  "  dead  in  trespasses  and  sins,"  and,  if 
you  continue  your  present  conduct,  without  a  hope  of  returning 
life  ?  "  Come  from  the  four  winds,  O  Breath,  and  breathe  upon 
these  slain,  that  they  may  live." 

But  it  is  not  enough  for  you  to  review  your  past  life.  Open 
your  eyes  in  solemn  prospect  on  the  scenes  before  you.  Your 
life  will  soon  hasten  to  a  close.  You  will  soon  be  arrested  by 
your  last  sickness,  and  be  laid  upon  the  bed  of  death.  Your 
hearts  will  cease  to  beat ;  your  strength  fail ;  and  your  eyes  be 
closed  in  darkness.  Your  bodies  will  be  carried  to  the  grave ; 
and  your  spirits  will  return  to  God  who  gave  them.  Think,  I 
beseech  you,  think  what  it  will  be  to  meet  your  .Judge ;  to  give 
up  your  account ;  and  to  enter  upon  your  retribution.  You  will 
not  there  meet  the  helpless  babe  of  Bethlehem  ;  the  man  of  sor- 
rows ;  the  buffeted  prisoner  ;  the  victim  of  the  cross ;  the  tenant 
of  the  tomb.  You  will  stand  before  "  the  Judge  of  the  quick 
and  the  dead,  the  blessed  and  only  Potentate,"  seated  on  tlie 
throne  of  the  universe  ;  "  from  whose  face  the  heavens  and  the 
earth  will  flee  away  ;"  whose  smile  will  be  heaven ;  whose  frown 
will  be  hell.  Your  account  will  be  the  register  of  your  life:  your 
trial  will  be  final :  your  souls  will  be  suspended  on  the  process : 
your  eternity  will  tremble  on  its  issue. 

Vol.  II.  2G 


I 


]g3  THE  \OUriI  OF  NAIN.  [SER.  Xllf. 

Of  such  a  life,  as  you  have  actually  led,  what  will,  what  must, 
be  your  account  ?  Of  the  trial  of  such  souls  what  must  be  the 
issue  ?  When  you  have  recited  all  your  unbelief,  your  impeni- 
tence, your  rebellion,  your  impiety,  and  all  the  annals  of  your 
gu'!t ;  will  this  glorious  person   subjoin  to  the  black  and  dismal 
relioarsal,  •'  Well  done,  good  and  faithful  servants  ;  enter  ye  into 
the  joy  of  3our  Lord  ?"  Will  he  take  you  to  his  arms  ;  and  pre- 
sent you  to  his  Father,  as  his  beloved  friends  and  faithful  disci- 
:  pies,  who  in  this  world  have  obe}  ed  his  voice,  and  walked  in  all 
\,his  coiinnandmeuts  and  ordinances.^  Will  he  open  to  you  the 
[  gates  oi  heaven  ;  and  conduct  you  to  endless  life,  and  glory  in- 
■  expressible  ?  Does  it  seem  even  to  you,  partial  and  biassed  as 
you  arc,  and  judging  in  your  own  case,  that  this  will  be  the  re- 
ward of  such  a  life,  as  yours?  I  know  the  answer,  which  your 
consciences  will  give.     I  know,  that  you  yourselves  believe  the 
case  to  be  hopeless.     It  is  impossible  for  you  seriously  to  imagine, 
that  beings,  polluted  as  you  are,  should  be  admitted,  thus  crim- 
soned uith  guilt,  into  the  presence' of  Ilim,  "  in  whose  sight  the 
heavens  themselves  are  not  clean."     It  is  impossible  for  you  to 
believe,  that  "  fulness  of  joy"  should  reward  your  impiety  ;  that 
"  pleasures  for  evermore"  should  flow  for  your  enjoyment. 

All  the  measures,  which  you  have  hitherto  taken,  have  not  ad- 
vanced you  a  single  step  towards  eternal  life.  You  have  not  yet 
entered  "  the  straight  and  narrow  way,  which  leads  to  that  life." 
IIow  can  you  expect  to  find  the  gates  of  glory,  which  open  at 
its  termination  ?  You  have  not  yet  begun  to  serve  God  here. 
How  can  you  expect  either  to  be  willing,  or  permitted,  to  "  serve 
him  day  and  night  in  his"  eternal  "  temple."  You  have  not  yet 
begun  to  assume  the  temper  of  angels,  or  of  "  the  spirits  of  just 
men  made  perfect."  IIow  can  you  expect  to  become  their  com- 
panions forever. 

Alas  !  you  have  entered,  you  have  gone  far,  you  are  now  rap- 
idly hastening  onward,  in  "  the  broad  and  crooked  road,  which 
leads  to  destrtiction."  In  this  progress  your  are  satisfied;  stupid; 
gay;  sportive;  undisturbed  by  conscience;  and  regardless  of 
death,  and  the  judgment.     On  the  brink  of  perdition  you  sleep. 


SER.  XIII.]  THE  YOUTH  OF  NAIN.  I99 

The  voice  of  mercy  cries  to  you,  "  Awake,  O  sleeper !  and  call 
upon  thy  God."  Half  roused  to  consciousness,  in  the  middle 
point  between  life  and  death,  you  feebly  exclaim,  "  Yet  a  little 
sleep,  a  little  slumber,  a  little  folding  of  the  hands  to  sleep." 
The  voice  of  judgment  will  soon  pronounce,  "  He  tliat  is  unjust, 
let  him  be  unjust  still ;  and  he  that  is  filthy,  let  him  be  filthy  still." 
Awake,  then,  "  while  it  is  called  to  day ;  Arise  ;  Stand  upon 
your  feet ;"  ply  the  work  of  your  salvation ;  repent ;  believe ; 
escape  for  your  lives  :  or  the  night  will  be  upon  you,  in  which 
you  will  sleep,  to  wake  no  more. 


i 


s^:R:\iOX  XIV. 

CONSIDERATIONS  IN  ADVERSITY.-Sekmon  I. 


ECCLESIASTES    VH.    U. 

In  the  day  of  adversity  consider. 

lU  lUoday  of  adversity  .  undoubtedly  intended  -  t);^  Pl»-- 
,,o.t  naturally  denotes,  an,^  season  of  sufter.ng  ^^;;^^^^ 
U..  of  nroperty,  health,  friends,  or  any  other  trul)  valuable  en 
iSln^itutes  such  a  season  .  and  calls  ibr  the  duty,  en- 

:  joined  in  the  text.     .  j^ 

In  such  a  season,  we  are  required  to  consider  J      . 

general  in  its  import  and  includes  a  great  variety  of  P^rf  culars. 
leTerally  it  intends,  that  we  should  apply  our  --s  sobe,  - 
lemnly,  and  fixedly,  to  the  contemplation  of  such  thmg  ,  ^s  are 
naturally  offered  to  our  view  by  the  Providence  of  Gob  ,  and  by 
such  a  'contemplation  that  we  should  make  them  the  means  of 
rPil  ind  enduring  good  to  our  souls, 

HtlyoAUeri'y  we  are  directed    in  t>>e  Feced.ng 

clause    to  ie  joyful.     It  is  plain,  tlrercfore,  that    m  the  s.ght  of 

Gon    a*Jc™'co,*cr  is  proper  for  men  in  ^^ffcraU  seasons 

a7arJs,ances ;  and  that  such  different  conduct  .s  useful  ^o 

US    and  acceptable  to  Him.    In  adversity,  it  .s  agreeable  to  h.s 

Zk    that  we  lay  aside  the  cheerfulness  which  becomes  prosper- 

and  endeavour  to  derive  from  our  situation  useful  mstrucfons 

and  ulful  impressions;  solemn,  but  profitable  ;su,.ed    o  the 

Stat  of  an  afflicted  mind  ;  and  fitted  to  make  such  a  mmd  w.ser 

and  b  tter.    Sobriety,  sorrow,  and  mourning,  are  all  proper 

"ates  of  the  human  mind ;  and  are  no  less  useful  m  then  p  ace 

than  loy  and  gratitude.     Each  of  these,  in  its  own  place,  rs  fitted 


SER.  XIV.]  CONSIDERATIONS,  &c.  201 

to  produce  real  good  to  man.  Prosperity  naturally  Icad.^  a  good 
mind  to  gratitude,  and  al^;o  to  repentance.     Alilictions  as  natu- 

'yally  yield  to  such  a  mind  "  the  peaceable  fruits  of  righteousness.'^ 

That  such  consideration  is,  in  such  a  season,  our  duty,   we 

know,  because  it  is  commanded.     Our  principal  concern,  then 

with  this  subject  must  be  to  learn  how  to  perform  this  duty,  and 

i  to  feel,  fully,  its  high  importance.     I  shall  suggest  therefore,  in 

this  discourse, 

I.  Some  of  the  proper  subjects  of  consideration  in  a  day  oj 

adversity;  and  ..^^ 

II.  The  .Motives  to  a  faithful  ptrformance  of  this  duty. 

I.  I  shall  mention  some  of  the  proper  subjects  of  consideration 

iin  the  day  of  adversity. 
Among  these  I  shall  notice 
1st.   The  source  of  our  afflictions  :  viz.  God. 
« I  form  the  light,  and  create  darkness  ;  I  make  peace,"  or 
prosperity,  "  and  create  evil,"  or  adversity.     "  I  the  Lord,  do  all 
Uthese  things."     Isaiah  xlv.  7th. 

"  Shall  there  be  evil  in  a  city,  and  the  Lord  hath  not  done  it  ?" 

Amos  iii.  6  th. 

"  Affliction  cometh  not  forth  of  the  dust,  neither  doth  trouble 

spring  out  of  the  ground."     Job  v.  6th. 

The  consideration,  that  Gou  is  the  source  of  our  afflictions, 
furnishes  us  with  many  useful  and  affecting  lessons.     Particularly 
we  are  taught  by  this  solemn  truth,  that  our  afflictions  are  all 
just,  proper,  and  reasonable.     In  mere  suffering  there  can  be  nei- 
ther consolation,  nor  profit.     Suffering,  inflicted  without  a  solid 
cause,  and  a  benevolent  end,  is  the  result  of  oppression  only. 
No  man  is  fitted  to  derive  good  from  this  source.     On  the  contra- 
xy\  he  is  irresistibly  impelled  to  resistance  and  hostihty ;  or  over- 
whelmed  bv  depression,  and  despair.     To  the  very  existence  of 
those  benefi'ts  which  afflictions  produce,  it  is  absolutely  necessary, 
that  we  should  be  convinced  of  the  justice  and  reasonableness  of 
the  infliction.     The  k.iowledge,  that  they  come  from  God,  is  un- 
answerable proof  of  the  propriety  and  the  equity  of  the  painful 
dispensation.     -The  Judge  of  all  the  earth,"  we  know,  «  doth 


.lt» 


^02  COXSii     ?.ATIONS  [SKR.  XIV. 

right;*'  and,  therefore,  liowcx-.r  distressing  our  suflerings,  we 
arc  sUiC  that  they  are  not  iinjnst. 

TVor  are  we  less  assvnod,  thai  oi(r  ajjUclions  are  sent  hi  mcas- 
t/rc,  .  >d  in  mercy.  "  Like  as  a  Father  pitieth  his  children,  so 
the  T  ^-  d  pitieth  them  that  fear  him.  His  mercies  are  greater 
than  01  r  sins ;  they  are  above  the  heavens,  and  endure  forever. 
They  are,"  also,  "  from  generation  to  generation  ;"  and  are  of 
course    xperienced  by  every  generation  of  mankind. 

Piini}iJnnent  is  to  him  a  strange  worh.  "  He  hath  no  pleasure 
in  the  death"  even  "  of  the  wicked  ;  but  would  rather,  that  he 
would  return,  and  repent,  and  live." 

Hence,  there  can  be  nothing  unkind,  nothing  oppressive,  in  his 
dispensations  ;  however  grievous,  they  may  seem  for  the  present. 
On  the  contrary,  they  are  the  kind  chastis'ements  of  the  Father  of 
our  sj^firits^  for  onr  good.  They  are,  therefore,  to  be  regarded, 
v.=  being  infinitely  dilTcrent  from  tliC  cruelties  of  our  fellow  crea- 
tures ;  the  wrath,  revenge,  and  bitterness,  often  manifested  by 
them  in  fearful  expressions  of  an  evil  disposition. 

From  these  considerations  it  is  further  evident,  that  our  afflic- 
tions are  necessary.  We  are  froward,  rebellious,  disobedient, 
children.  We  need  to  be  chastised,  to  bring  us  to  a  disposition 
conformed  to  the  commands  of  our  heavenly  Father,  and  indis- 
pensable to  our  well-being  ;  a  disposition,  without  which  we  can- 
not be  happy,  nor  useful ;  and  without  which  we  are  unwilling  to 
suffer  others  to  be  happy.  As  our  own  children  are  brought  from 
rebellion  and  frowardness  to  obedience  and  sweetness  of  temper; 
so  are  the  children  of  our  heavenly  Father  redeemed  in  the  same 
manner,  and  by  the  same  means,  to  a  filial  and  penitent  state  of 
of  mind,  and  to  a  virtuous  and  amiable  life. 

With  these  views,  we  cannot  easily  revolt,  when  we  are  afflic- 
ted ;  unless,  like  Ephraim,  of  old,  we  are  become  incorrigible, 
and  discourage  even  God  himself  from  chastising  us  any  longer. 

2dly.  Another  subject  of  consideration  to  the  afflicted  is  the 
Procuring  Cause  of  their  afflictions. 

Our  Sins  are  this  cause.  We  merit  all  that  we  receive';  and 
much  more.     We  are  exceedingly  guilty,  wicked  beings.     Sin  is 


SER.  XIV.]  IN  ADVERSITY.  203 

a  (Jrcadful  evil ;  far  more  hateful  than  we  are  willing  to  believe, 
and  especially  to  confess.  Our  own  sins  arc,  also  immensely 
more  numerous  and  aggravated,  than  we  can  be  persuaded  to 
acknowledge,  or  admit.  We  therefore  deserve  at  the  hand  of 
God,  great  and  distressing  punishment.  Of  this  we  receive, 
here,  even  in  our  most  unhappy  circumstances,  a  very  little  part. 
"  The  Lord  is  merciful  and  gracious,  slow  to  anger,  and  plenteous 
in  mercy.  He  will  not  always  chide  ;  nor  will  he  keep  his  anger 
forever.  He  hath  not  dealt  with  us  after  our  sins  nor  rewar- 
ded us  according  to  our  iniquities.  For  as  the  heaven  is  high 
above  the  earth,  so  great  is  his  mercy  towards  them  that  fear  him. 
As  far  as  the  east  is  from  the  west,  so  far  hath  he  removed  our 
transgressions  from  us.  .  Like  as  a  father  pitieth  his  children,  so 
the  Lord  pitieth  them  that  fear  him." 

Sin  is  that  abominable  thing,  which  his  soul  hates.  To  remove 
ius  from  our  attachment  to  it,  he  uses  innumerable  methods;  all 
formed,  and  addled,  by  infinite  wisdom  and  goodness.  If  we 
do  not,  from  a  most  blamable  obstinacy,  or  an  equally  blamable 
negligence,  prevent  their  efficacy  ;  they  will  prove  effectual  to 
the  final  extirpation  of  this  fatal  evil.  But  whether  we  yield  to 
Him  and  his  providence,  or  not,  He  will  never  cease  to  regard 
both  sin  and  sinners,  with  abhorrence.  Against  it  he  will  con- 
tend in  this  world,  and  in  that  which  is  to  come,  with  supreme 
and  unchangeable  hatred  and  opposition.  To  it  he  will  grant 
no  indulgence  :  from  it  he  will  never  withdraw  the  rod  of  chas- 
tisement. Unblamable  virtue  was  never  afflicted  by  God,  except 
in  the  person  of  Christ ;  and  then  it  was  not  afflicted  for  its  own 
sake  ;  but  for  the  sake  of  those  miserable  sinners  for  whom  he 
died.  All  the  good  are  loved  by  God  ;  and  all  are  gloriously  re- 
warded throughout  his  vast  kingdom.  Such  of  them,  indeed, 
as  are  imperfectly  good,  will  be  often  chastised  ;  but  this  is  done, 
only  to  make  them  better.  "He  smites  them  in  his  wrath  for  a 
small  moment;  but  with  everlasting  kindness  will  he  have  mercy 
!  on  them.  For  the  mercy  of  the  Lord  is  from  everlasting  to  ever- 
lasting upon  theuj  that  fear  him;  and'his  righteousness  to  chil- 
dren's children." 


oQ-i  CONS^IDERATIONS  [SER.  XIV. 

Wlicncvcr,  ihcrefoie,  we  are  afilictcd,  let  us  say,  with  Dan- 
iel, "Oh  Lord,  to  us  belongcth  confusion  of  face,  because  wc 
have  sinned  against  thee.  To  the  Lord,  our  God,  belong  mer- 
cies and  forgivenesses,  though  we  have  re'-elled  against  him, 
Neither  have  wc  obeyed  thevoice  of  the  Lord  our  Gou,  to  walk 
in  his  laws,  which  he  set  before  us  by  his  servants,  the  prophets.'' 

Sdl}-.  T/ic  afflicted  should  also  consider  the  End,  for  which 
their  afflictions  are  sent. 

This  is,  generally,  to  "  turn  us  from  the  error  of  our  ways,  that 
we  may  save  our  s^uls  alive."  "  The  Father  of  our  spirits"  al- 
ways chastises,  according  to  the  language  of  St.  Paul,  "  for  our 
profit,  that  v.e  may  be  partakers  of  his  holiness."  This  end  is 
evidently  the  best  of  all  'ends :  an  end  eminently  divine,  and 
worthy  of  a  God.  Who,  with  a  full  conviction  of  this,  as  the 
real  end,  can  fail  to  "  be  in  subjection  to  the  Father  of  Spirits, 
that  he  may  live."  -Must  not  this  consideration  produce  patience, 
submission,  gratitude,  and  an  universally  filial  character  ?  One 
would  think  it  an  ample  and  abundant  source  of  all  those  "  peace- 
able fruits  of  Righteousness,"  which  are  found  by  those,  who 
Txcver  "  despise  the  chastening  of  the  Lord,  nor  faint  when  they 
are  rebuked  of  him." 

4thly.  The  afflicted  should  also  consider  the  Instructions,  which 
are  communicated  by  their  distresses. 

These  are  very  numerous,  and  all  of  them  are  important.  A 
few  only  can  be  now  mentioned. 

First.  Afflictions  teach  us,  that  this  world  was  not  designed  to 
be  a  place  of  happiness. 

This  plain  lesson  is  one  of  the  most  difficult  to  be  learned  by 
us.  We  are,  indeed,  ready  enough  to  acknowledge  it  to  be  true ; 
but  our  acknowledgment,  in  most  instances,  comes  from  our 
lips  only,  and  not  from  our  hearts.  This  is  unanswerably  proved 
by  our  daily  conduct.  When  we  lose  one  enjoyment,  we  betake 
ourselves  to  another ;  and,  when  disappointed  of  the  expected 
happiness  in  one  case,  we  turn  speedily  to  another  ;  proving  by 
all,  wiiicli  v/e  do,  our  belief,  that  there  is  real  and  sufficient  good, 
to  be  found  somewhere  ;  although  we  have,  hitherto,  missed  it 


qo 


SER.  XIV.]  IN  ADVERSITY.  ^05 

in  our  search.  Earth  still  is  the  darling  object.  The  old  man 
shews  this  equally  with  the  youth  ;  and  grasps  his  bags  and  his 
offices  as  eagerly,  as  the  youth  his  pleasures  and  his  fame.  Even 
the  Christian  is  but  partly  iron  ;  the  remainder  of  his  composi- 
tion is  still  clay.  Firm  at  times,  he  is  frail  and  crumbling  at  oth- 
er times.  He  often  lets  go  his  hold  on  heaven  ;  and  clings  close- 
ly to  earth. 

The  vanity  of  all  this  conduct,  and  of  the  things  which  prompt 
it,  nothing  teaches  so  effectually  as  Affliction.  He,  who  has  lost 
his  wealth,  is  more  ready  than  ever  before  to  feel,  that  "  riches 
take  to  themselves  wings,  and  fly  away."  He,  who  has  lost  his 
p  ularity,  power,  and  fame,  is  more  willing  than  before  to  con- 
fess, and  to  beheve,  that  it  is  unwise  to  put  "  trust  in  princes,  or 
in  the  sons  of  men,"  in  whom  there  is  neither  faithfulness,  nor 
help.  He,  who  has  lost  his  beloved  friends,  and  the  children 
who  were  "  bone  of  his  bone,  and  flesh  of  his  flesh,"  learns,  per- 
haps for  the  first  time,  that  the  very  Zi/e,  on  which  the  continu- 
ance of  these  most  dear  enjoyments  depended,  "  is  but  a  vapour, 
which  appeareth  for  a  fittle  time,  and  then  vanisheth  away."  He, 
who  has  been  deprived  of  his  health,  becomes  easily  convinced 
that  himself  is  but  "  dust,  crushed  before  the  moth  ;  and  born  to 
trouble  as"  naturally,  as  "  the  sparks  fly  upward." 

Thus  we  discern  by  the  loss  of  enjoyment,  that  the  things  en- 
joyed are  frail,  perishing,  and  utterly  unfitted  to  be  the  firm 
grounds  of  confidence  to  an  immortal  mind ;  the  objects,  on 
which  it  can  safely  and  permanently  rest ;  the  sources,  whence 
it  can  derive  the  happiness  which  it  needs. 

At  times,  all  these  truths  are  strongly  impressed  by  a  single 
affliction.  Especially  is  this  the  case,  when  the  affliction  is  very 
great,  sudden  and  unexpected  ;  or  when  it  befalls  a  mind  pecu- 
liarly tender  and  susceptible  ;  or  when  it  comes  in  an  hour  of 
uncommon  feeling  and  solemnity.  But  more  usually  it  is  the  re- 
sult of  successive  chastisements  to  such  gross,  hard,  forgetful, 
sluggish  hearts,  as  ours.  When  we  see  one  blessing  taken  away 
after  another ;  we  naturafly  begin  to  realize  that  this  is  not  a 
world  of  enjoyment,  but  a  vale  of  tears  •,  that  God  did  not  des- 

VoL.  H.  27 


206  CONSIDERATIONS  [SER.   XIV- 

tine  us  here,  to  the  happiness  for  which  we  were  made,  and  for 
which  we  feel  irresistible  desires,  and  a  boundless  capacity.  Thus 
are  we  taught,  in  that  which  is  the  only  effectual  method  of  in- 
struction, this  indispensable  and  most  profitable  lesson  ;  and  thus 
do  we  become  finally  convinced,  that  we  are  here  mere  proba- 
tioners for  another  and  better  country,  and  have  in  this  world  no 
abiding  place.  Hence  we  are  led  to  feel  as  "  pilgrims  and  stran- 
gers on  the  earth,"  and  to  seek  for  our  permanent  residence,  "  a 
city  which  hath  foundations,  whose  Builder  and  Maker  is  God." 

On  this  great  lesson  is  grafted,  inseparably,  another  which  is 
kindred  to  it ;  the  folly  of  our  attachment  to  this  world. 

If  the  world  be  thus  vain,  we  cannot  but  discern  the  folly  of 
placing  our  affections  inordinately  upon  it.  That,  which  is  of 
little  worth,  deserves  little  of  our  attention  and  attachment. 
That  which  is  fleeting  and  uncertain,  however  valuable  otherwise, 
must  be  of  little  worth  ;  and  that,  which  is  of  little  value  in  it- 
self, and  is  also  transient  and  precarious,  is  scarcely  of  any  worth 
at  all.  None  but  a  fool,  or  a  madman,  can  highly  prize  the  most 
beautiful  and  splendid  bubble;  which,  though  adorned  with  hues 
of  enchantment,  dissolves  at  a  touch,  and  is  changed  in  a  moment 
into  a  mere  drop  of  impure  water. 

Intimately  connected  with  this  truth  is  another  of  the  same 
useful  nature  ;  the  equal,  or  rather  the  enhanced,  folly  of  our 
anxieties  and  labours,  to  gain  and  secure  so  poor  an  inheritance 
in  such  a  world.  Think  not,  that  I  object  to  an  industrious  pur- 
suit of  the  things  of  this  world.  Industry  in  our  respective  call- 
ings is  the  duty  of  us  all.  But  industry,  to  be  lawful,  or  useful, 
must  be  pursued  as  a  duty ;  and  not  as  an  indulgence  or  instru- 
ment of  avarice,  ambition,  or  sensuality.  We  must  be  industri- 
ous, solely  because  God  has  commanded  it ;  because  good  will 
result  ffMH)  it ;  and  because  idleness  will  ruin  us  both  in  soul  and 
body  ;  and  not  because  industry  will  make  us  rich,  great,  or  pos- 
sessed of  sensual  enjoyment.  "  Love  not  the  world,  neither  the 
things  that  are  in  the  world  :  if  any  man  love  the  world,  the  love 
9f  the  Father  is  not  in  him." 


<rER.  XIV.]  IN  ADVERSITY.  207 

The  usual  method,  in  which  men  are  industrious,  is  a  mere 
obedience  to  "  the  lust  of  the  flesh,  the  lust  of  the  eyes,  and  the 
pride  of  life."  This  world  is  to  most  men  the  ultimate  object. 
Instead  of  labouring  that  they  may  serve  God,  obey  his  com- 
mands, and  become  benefactors  to  those  around  them  ;  they  la- 
bour, solely,  to  gain  an  inheritance  here ;  confine  all  their  cares 
and  anxieties  to  this  side  of  the  grave  ;  and  think  nothing  of 
God,  duty,  or  eternal  life.  Thus  they  are  without  God  in  this 
world,  and  without  hope  in  the  next. 

The  first  great  check,  which  this  wordly,  wretched  spirit  finds- 
is  a  conviction,  usually  produced  by  mere  suffering,  that  the  world 
itself  is  a  poor,  miserable,  perishing  possession  ;  in  which  the 
good,  they  seek,  can  never  be  found.  With  this  conviction  they 
easily  learn,  that  they  "  labour  for  that  which  is  not  meat,  and 
spend  their  strength  for  that  which  satisfieth  not ;"  that  they 
have  during  all  their  preceding  life,  "  been  feeding  on  wind,  and 
snuffing  up  the  east  wind." 

Hence  they,  also,  naturally  learn  not  to  "  set  their  affections 
on  things  below,"  however  delightful,  and  however  endeared. 
Property,  power,  fame,  pleasure,  friends,  children,  parents,  hus- 
bands, wives,  health,  and  life  itself,  begin  to  lose  their  false  value, 
and  deceitful  charms.  The  world  universally  begins  to  wear  a 
new  and  juster  appearance.  Instead  of  the  Paradise,  which  it 
was  originally  believed  to  be,  fraught  with  "  every  thing  good  for 
food,"  beautiful  to  the  eye,  and  "  pleasant  to  the  taste ;"  it  is  now 
discerned  to  be  a  mere  wilderness,  dry  and  thirsty,  barren  of  real 
good,  perplexed  with  thorns  and  briers,  and  furnishing  to  the 
longing  soul  no  springs  of  life,  no  refuge,  no  home. 

Secondly.  Afflictions  teach  us,  that  our  life,  as  well  as  our  en- 
joyments, is  frail,  uncertain  and  momemtary. 

It  may  seem  strange  for  me  to  suppose,  that  any  man  needs  to 
be  taught  this  truth,  after  being  taught  it  by  every  thing  which 
passes  before  his  eyes,  and  by  the  testimony  of  God,  and  of  al! 
his  fellow  creatures.  I  do  not,  indeed,  suppose  any  man  igno- 
rant of  it ;  or  even  doubtful  concerning  the  proposition,  as  gen- 
erally stated.     Still  I  believe  few  men  realize  this  truth,  obvious 


208  CONSIDERATIONS  [SER.  XIV. 

as  it  is,  with  regard  to  themselves.  That  they  may  die,  all  will 
acknowledge.  Most  feel,  perhaps,  in  some  degree  or  other,  that, 
at  some  distant  period,  they  must  die.  But  few,  I  suspect,  feel 
that  death  is  near,  and  life  uncertain,  or  even  short.  To  most, 
if  we  may  trust  the  testimony  of  our  eyes,  or  ears,  a  long  life  ap- 
pears highly  probable,  if  not  absolutely  secure.  Most  of  the 
Young  promise  themselves  old  age,  and  most  of  the  aged,  one. 
or  several  years  to  come.  In  a  few  instances,  solitary  and  tran- 
sient, it  is  probable,  that  all  men  may  believe  death  near  and  life 
precarious  ;  but,  in  the  usual  current  of  thought  they  feel  secure 
of  future  days,  and  of  many  such  days. 

It  would  also  seem,  that  no  reasoning  has  sufficient  power  to 
change  this  state  of  the  mind ;  at  least  none,  which  is  actually 
employed.  We  hear  arguments  ;  allow  their  force  ;  and  then 
think,  and  feel  and  act,  just  as  if  they  had  never  been  alleged. 

But  what  arguments  cannot  do,  afflictions  can.  The  sickness 
of  ourselves,  when  brought  to  the  borders  of  the  grave,  or  the 
death  of  our  friends,  companions  and  children,  beloved  of  us, 
and  necessary  to  our  happiness  is  "  a  hand  writing  on  the  wall" 
to  the  stupid,  wordiy  mind  ;  and  presents  before  us  in  solemn,  aw- 
ful*, and  irresistible  language,  "  Thou  art  numbered,  and  finished." 
We  now  begin  to  feel,  as  well  as  to  know  ;  and,  for  a  short  time 
at  least,  and  in  the  moment  of  serious  pondering,  we  discern 
death  really  at  the  door  ;  and  behold  the  grave  opening  to  receive 
us  to  its  lonely  and  desolate  mansions.  This  is  the  teaching,  of 
which  I  speak  ;  and  which  afflictions  almost  alone  give.  Our 
former  convictions  had  no  practical  influence.  Our  present  in- 
structions are  of  higher  power,  and  happier  efficacy.  From  them 
often  springs  a  change  of  our  thoughts,  our  affijctions  and  our 
conduct.  Our  belief  becomes  practical ;  and  often  produces  a 
lasting  and  saving  influence  on  our  lives ;  and,  like  David,  we 
find  it  "  good  for  us  to  have  been  afflicted." 

Thirdly.  Afflictions  teach  us,  that  our  probation  is  equally 
transient. 

Few  of  those,  who  believe  the  Scriptures  at  all,  fail  to  believe, 
generally  and  loosely,  that  life  is  a  day  of  probation,  on  which 


SER  XIV.]  IN  ADVERSITY.  209 

all  their  future  being  depends.  By  afflicted  persons  life  begins 
seriously  to  be  thought  to  be  such  a  day,  when  their  afflictions 
begin.  In  consequence  of  this  new  thought,  a  new  train  of  think- 
inir  follows.  All  the  work  of  salvation  now  first  appears  to 
them  to  be  future,  and  yet  to  be  begun.  They  discern  and  feel, 
that  it  must,  if  ever  done,  be  done  on  this  side  of  the  grave. 
Now  they  see  God  reconcilable  to  them.  Now  they  hear  the  Sav- 
iour invite  them  to  lay  hold  on  eternal  life.  Now  "  the  Spirit  and 
the  Bride  say,  Come  ;  and  let  him  that  heareth  say  come  ;  and'jet 
him  that  is  athirst  come  ;  and,  whosover  will,  let  him  take  of  the 
water  of  life  freely."  Now  the  Word  of  life  is  in  their  hands. 
But  "  in  the  grave,  whither  they  go,  there  is  no  work,  nor  device, 
nor  knowledge,  nor  wisdom." 

Life,  therefore,  begins  now  to  seem  to  them  of  infinite  value. 
In  life,  if  ever,  the  sou!  is  to  be  saved.  If  neglected  now,  it  will 
be  neglected  forever.  Short  and  uncertain,  as  the  period  is,  it  is 
the  only  period  in  which  salvation  is  to  be  secured. 

To  the  mind,  in  such  a  state,  will  naturally  recur  the  thought 
how  much  of  life  it  has  already  lost.  Salvation  is  not  already 
secured  by  those,  of  whom  T  especially  speak.  Of  course,  all 
the  preceding  part  of  life  has  been  wasted  by  them.  This  may 
be  almost  the  whole  of  life,  and  must  be  much  of  it ;  infinitely 
too  much  to  have  been  thus  lost  and  squandered,  to  have  been 
given  to  the  world,  the  flesh  and  the  devil,  to  sense  and  sin,  to 
guilt  and  perdition. 

To  such  a  mind  will  naturally  rise  up,  in  solemn  and  dreadful 
remembrance  the  numerous  Sabbaths,  which  it  has  lost,  profaned 
and  abused  :  the  ordinances,  which  it  has  neglected  and  despi- 
sed ;  the  calls  of  mercy,  to  which  it  has  turned  a  deaf  ear,  and 
a  hard  heart ;  the  prayers  and  praises,  in  which  it  has  steadily  re- 
fused to  unite  ;  and  the  sermons,  which  it  has  neglected  and 
trampled  under  foot. 

It  will  also  remember  with  deep  regret,  how  often  and  how 
long  the  word  of  God  has  been  left  on  the  shelf,  or  in  the  clos- 
et, unopened,  unread,  forgotten,  and  despised  ;  how  many  re- 
hgious  instructions  it  has  cast  away,  ridiculed,  and  disobeyed ; 


210  CONSIDERATIONS  [SER.  XIV. 

and  how  many  good  resolutions  it  has  formed,  only  to  be  viola- 
ted, and  to  be  left,  as  mere  memorials  of  its  folly  and  its  sin. 

At  such  a  time,  it  is  apt  to  feel  how  little  it  has  done,  and  how 
much  it  has  had  to  do ;  how  barren  a  fig  tree  it  has  been  in  its 
master's  vineyard  ;  and  how  strongly  it  has  provoked  him  to  say, 
"  Cut  it  down  ;  why  cumbereth  it  the  ground." 

To  the  Christian,  all  these  instructions,  so  far  as  they  are  appli- 
cable to  him,  are  also  given  by  afflictions.  In  addition  to  them, 
he  is  most  affectingly  reminded  how  cold,  stupid  and  unfruitful, 
he  has  been  in  the  service  of  his  Lord ;  how  much  of  his  heart, 
his  labours  and  his  time,  he  has  given  to  the  world,  and  sin,  and 
folly,  and  shame ;  how  many  opportunities  of  improving  in  all 
Christian  graces,  and  in  the  divine  life,  he  has  either  wholly  or 
chiefly  lost ;  how  many  opportunities  of  doing  good  to  the  souls 
of  men,  of  honouring  Christ,  of  glorifying  God,  of  adorning 
Christianity,  of  proving  a  blessing  to  himself  and  to  mankind. 
Every  such  opportunity  will  now  naturally  recur  to  him,  as  of 
value  mightily  enhanced ;  as  most  diligently  and  earnestly  to  be 
employed  :  as  eagerly  to  be  seized,  and  carefully  to  be  husband- 
ed. He  will  see  the  world,  and  life,  and  talents,  in  a  light, 
which  in  various  respects  is  new,  and  of  increased  importance. 
The  voice  of  affliction  is  to  him  the  voice  of  God,  calling 
upon  him  for  renewed  diligence  ;  to  consider  life  as  only  a  time 
of  doing  good  ;  and  to  feel  that  his  duty  is  all,  for  which  he  was 
sent  into  the  world,  and  all,  for  which  his  residence  in  it  is  contin- 
ued. Hence  he  will  be  quickened  to  greater  and  greater  efforts  ; 
to  lose  no  time  ;  to  neglect  no  talent ;  to  pass  by  no  opportunity 
of  doing  all  the  good  in  his  power  ;  and  especially  of  promoting 
the  salvation  of  his  fellow  creatures. 

Religion,  and  all  the  means,  instructions,  precepts  and  duties, 
of  it  will  now  appear  invested  with  a  character  and  importance, 
peculiarly  solemn  and  affecting.  Religion  he  will,  with  new  and 
enlightened  vision,  behold  to  be  all,  for  which  life  is  worth  having 
or  enjoying ;  the  end  of  his  creation,  preservation  and  blessings  ; 
the  source  of  his  happiness,  and  his  worth  ;  and  the  foundation 
of  all  his  hopes  in  the  future  world.     Religion  is,  therefore,  seen 


SER.  XIV.]  IN  ADVERSITY.  211 

and  felt  to  be  his  all.  The  world,  to  him  more  empty  and  worth- 
less than  before,  appears  now  almost  merely  as  a  stage  of  action ; 
a  scene  of  duty.  In  performing  this  duty  he  will  more  than  ever 
intend  to  find  his  enjoyment ;  and  will  fully  realize  that  it  is  "  more 
blessed  to  give  than  to  receive  ;"  to  do  good  than  to  gain  it. 

All  these  instructions  affliction  also  writes  with  "  a  pen  of  iron, 
and  the  point  of  a  diamond."  They  are  engraved  on  the  heart; 
and  are  therefore  long,  and  often  indelibly,  legible.  They  are 
accordingly  read  daily  and  efficaciously.  Like  the  instructions 
of  childhood,  which  survive  all  the  changes  of  life,  which  are  re- 
membered and  powerful,  when  all  succeeding  instructions  have 
vanished,  they  remain  in  strong  and  glowing  characters,  and  pro- 
duce mighty  effects,  long  after  they  would  be  naturally  supposed 
to  have  been  forgotten.  Time,  which  effaces  all  other  images, 
often  makes  these  brighter  and  stronger.  The  soul  feels  them  in 
every  variation  of  its  circumstances  ;  in  every  change  of  human 
events  ;  and,  recognising  them  in  their  full  power  on  a  dying  bed, 
carries  them  into  eternity.  There,  not  improbably  they  assume 
new  force  ;  are  remembered  as  means,  eminently  kind  and  mer- 
ciful, of  its  escape  from  sin,  its  assumption  of  holiness,  its  attain- 
ment of  a  title  to  endless  life,  its  renewed  vigour  and  faithfulness 
in  the  service  of  God,  its  increased  beneficence  to  mankind,  and 
its  supreme  enjoyment  of  the  divine  favour  and  celestial  glory, 
throughout  ages  which  cannot  end.  ' 


SERMON  XV. 

CONSIDERATIONS  IN  ADVERSITY.— Sermon  II. 

ECCLESIASTES    vH.    14. 

In  the  day  of  adversity  consider. 

In  the  former  discourse,  I  proposed  to  notice, 

I.  Some  of  the  proper  Subjects  of  consideration,  in  the  day  of 
adversity. 

II.  The  Motives  to  a  faithfid  performance  of  this  duty. 
Under  tlie  first  head,  I  considered 

1st.   The  Source  of  our  afHictions. 

2dly.   Their  procuring  Cause. 

3dly.   The  End  for  v)hich  they  were  sent:  and 

4thly.   The  Instructions  communicated  by  them. 

Among  these  I  noticed, 

First.  That  the  world  was  not  designed  to  be  a  place  of  hap- 
piness. 

Secondly.   That  life  is  frail,  uncertain,  and  momentary. 

Thirdly.   That  our  Probation  is  equally  transient. 

In  pursuing  this  subject  I  shall  mention,  as  another  important 
instruction  communicated  by  Afflictions ; 

Fourthly.  That  the  day  of  death,  though  always  near,  is  still 
absolutely  uncertain. 

This  is  a  most  profitable  theme  of  consideration.  "  Boast  not 
thyself  of  to-morrow ;"  says  Solomon,  "  for  thou  knowest  not  what 
a  day  may  bring  forth."  No  rule  of  life  can  be  more  obviously 
just,  and  reasonable,  than  this ;  yet  no  rule  is  more  generally  dis- 
regarded. We  are  always  boasting  of  to  morrow ;  always  prom- 
ising ourselves  long  life  and  good  days. 


-^ER.  XV.]  CONSIDERATIONS,  &c.  213 

How  foolish  and  unreasonable  is  this  overweening !  Were  an 
enemy  at  hand,  prepared  and  determined  to  attack  us,  could  we 
justify  ourselves  in  sleeping  at  our  posts  under  the  expectation, 
that,  because  the  time  of  assault  was  unknown  to  us,  a  long  pe- 
riod would  of  course  intervene  ?  What  soldier  would  be  excused 
by  his  Commander  in  such  conduct,  for  such  a  reason  ? 

In  the  present  case,  infinitely  more  is  depending.  Our  life, 
our  souls,  our  eternity,  are  at  hazard.  The  arrival  of  death  de- 
termines the  destiny  of  them  all,  and  determines  it  finally. 

Precisely  the  contrary  conduct  ought  to  be  pursued  by  us  to 
that,  which  we  actually  pursue.  As  death  is  always  near ;  we 
ought  always  to  feel  deeply  this  amazing  concern.  As  death  is 
always  uncertain  ;  we  ought  always  to  believe,  and  to  feel,  that 
it  is  near ;  that,  instead  of  being  more  remote,  it  is  nearer  than 
we  most  naturally  believe  ;  that  it  may  arrive  to  day,  to  morrow, 
or  the  next  day  ;  and  that  we  are  inexcusable  and  mad,  if  we 
neglect  to  prepare  ourselves  for  it,  a  single  moment. 

To  this  end  it  is  not  necessary,  that  we  should  neglect  any 
part  of  our  worldly  business,  which  our  duty  demands  of  us. 
Every  day,  we  waste  time  enough  in  unreasonable  care  about 
the  world,  about  riches,  honours,  and  pleasures,  or  in  idle,  loiter- 
ing, and  useless  amusement,  to  furnish  ample  opportunity  for  at- 
tending efficaciously  to  the  great  business  of  preparing  for  death. 
This  wasted  time,  wasted  in  that  which  is  of  no  profit  to  us,  we 
ought  to  devote  to  Religion.  Every  day  furnishes  sufficient  op- 
portunities for  this  purpose.  The  business  of  religious  men  is 
not  more  apt  to  be  neglected,  or  to  decline,  than  that  of  other 
men  ;  nor  are  they  apparently  more  hurried,  or  perplexed  ;  nor 
are  they  more  uncomfortable,  or  more  destitute  of  enjoyment. 
But  they  husband  life  better ;  and  aim  at  more  rational  and  sin- 
cere enjoyments.  If  we  comprehended  the  meaning  of  that  me- 
morable precept,  "  With  all  thy  getting  get  understanding,"  and 
were  willing  to  obey  it ;  we  should  see  that  the  salvation  of  the 
soul  might  be  easily  secured,  without  neglecting  any  useful 
worldly  object. 

Vol.  II.  28 


214  CONSIDERATIONS  [SER.  XV 

To  enforce  this  great  duty  upon  ourselves,  we  ought  steadily 
to  remember,  that  as  death  leaves  us,  so  the  judgment  will  find 
us  :  that  "  it  is  appointed  unto  men  once  to  die,  and  after  that" 
Cometh  "the  judgment."  The  judgment  is  immediately  beyond 
death.  When  "  the  dust  returns  to  the  earth  as  it  was,  the  spirit 
shall  return  to  God  who  gave  it."  No  intervening  period  will 
then  respite  the  soul,  and  allow  it  to  make  further  preparation  for 
this  stupendous  event,  not  made  in  the  present  world.  How 
overwhelming,  and  dreadful,  will  it  be  to  a  dying  sinner  to  see 
himself  still  a  sinner,  when  his  Lord  shall  call  him  to  his  final 
reckoning  ;  and  to  find,  that  all  the  terrors  of  his  dying  bed  are 
only  increased  beyond  measure,  the  moment  he  opens  his  eyes  in 
the  invisible  world  ! 

Fifthly,  uifflictions  teach  us,  that  a  dying  heel  is  a  most  improji- 
er  place  to  begin  the  work  of  repentance. 

The  body  on  a  dying  bed  is  either  wasted  with  disease,  or 
racked  with  pain.  With  the  weakness  and  distress  of  the  body 
the  weakness  of  the  soul  usually  keeps  pace.  He,  who  has  lost 
almost  all  his  bodily  strength,  is  unfitted  for  solemn,  or  even  clear 
and  just,  contemplation.  In  a  languishing  body  all  the  thoughts 
and  affections  of  the  soul  usually  languish  ;  and,  if  exerted  at  all, 
are  exerted  to  no  valuable  end.  How  iew  men  are  able,  on 
such  a  bed,  wisely  and  properly  to  arrange  and  direct,  even  their 
worldly  aftairs  1  affairs,  which  they  may  be  said  to  have  gotten 
by  heart ;  and  all  the  parts  of  which  are  habitually  familiar. 
How  much  less  fitted  must  they  be  to  enter  on  the  great  work 
of  salvation ;  a  new  and  vast  work,  to  no  part  of  which  they 
have  hitherto  paid  any  proper  attention.  This  demands  clear 
and  comprehensive  thought,  strong  affections,  vigorous  resolu- 
tions, and  complete  self  possession. 

When  the  body  is  distressed,  and  sinking  under  pain,  the  soul, 
besides  its  weakness,  is  forced  to  attend  to  its  sufferings  ;  and  is» 
of  course  ;  engrossed  by  them.  It  then  becomes,  in  a  sense,  im- 
possible for  it  to  turn  its  views,  with  either  strength,  or  success, 
to  any  other  object.  In  the  paroxysms  of  the  gout,  or  cholic,  or 
in  the  labourlngs  of  the  atshma,  who  could  properly  take  care  of 


^£R.  XV.]  IN  ADVERSITY.  215 

the  simplest  business.  But  how  much  more  intense,  in  many 
instances,  are  the  pains  of  death,  than  these  ?  And  how  often 
are  these  the  very  pains  of  a  dying  bed  ? 

The  terrors  also,  under  which  the  mind  of  a  sinner  must  sink 
on  his  death  bed,  cannot  fail  to  prevent  him  from  that  steady, 
firm,  serene,  and  just  thinking,  indispensable  to  a  due  prepara- 
tion for  death.  Death  is  now  near  ;  beyond  it,  immediately,  is 
the  judgment ;  and  beyond  that  the  recompense  of  reward. 

Or,  if  we  suppose  the  sinner  unalarmed  concerning  these 
things,  we  must  also  suppose  him  stupid  and  unconcerned  about 
his  salvation. 

The  time,  spent  on  a  dying  bed,  is  usually  short,  and  in  a  sense 
momentary.  This  is  an  unhappy  circumstance  for  him,  who  has 
so  much  to  do,  and  that  of  such  high  importance.  The  continu- 
ance of  life  too,  is  now  felt  to  be  uncertain  ;  and  this  fact  alarms 
the  soul  too  much,  to  leave  it  a  full  possession  of  this  short 
period. 

There  is  also  dreadful  reason  to  fear,  that  God,  after  a  life  of 
revolt  and  impiety,  will  refuse  to  be  reconciled  to  the  sinner,  who 
has  given  himself  to  rebellion  throughout  all  his  days,  and  now, 
when  he  can  sin  no  longer,  is  anxious  to  be  reconciled  to  his  Ma- 
ker. "Be  not  deceived,"  says  St.  Paul,  "God  is  not  mocked; 
for  whatsoever  a  man  soweth,  that  shall  he  also  reap."  What 
is  mocking  God,  if  the  consecration  of  a  whole  life  to  sin,  and 
making  the  proffers  of  repentance  and  reformation  at  the  last 
hour,  is  not  ?  The  man  has  "  sown  to  the  flesh"  through  life  : 
is  there  not  every  reason  to  believe,  that  "  of  the  flesh  he  will 
reap  corruption"  only  ?  All  these  solemn  things  we  are  affect- 
ingly  taught  by  the  death  of  our  friends.  We  see  few  persons 
hopefully  repent  on  a  death  bed.  We  see  them  then  hurried, 
enfeebled,  alarmed,  distressed  ;  unable  to  command  their  thoughts 
and  affections,  and  very  rarely  accomplishing,  or  even  beginning, 
the  work  of  salvation.  Nay,  we  see  even  the  good,  the  religious, 
often  thus  embarrassed  and  distressed  ;  and  possessing  less  bright 
and  comforting  views  of  their  good  estate,  and  their  reconciliation 
to  God,  than  at  other  times.     In  this  there  is  nothing  strange. 


216  CONSIDERATIONS  [SKR.  XV. 

nothing  discouraging  concerning  them.  Their  former  views  and 
lives  furnish  us  with  abundant  consolation  ;  yet  even  they  strong- 
ly teach  us  this  great  truth,  in  a  very  affecting  manner,  that  a  dy- 
ing heel  is  vot  the  proper  place  to  begin  the  work  of  Repentance. 
The  same  truth  is  also  taught  by  the  deaths  of  such  Chris- 
tians, as  then  enjoy  abundant  peace  and  consolation.  In  them 
we  behold  how  wise  and  supporting  it  is,  to  have  begun  and  fin- 
ished this  mighty  work,  "  while  it"  was  "  called  to  day ;"  to  have 
seized  the  spring  time  to  cast  in  the  seed,  and  to  have  the  sum- 
mer before  them,  to  mature  the  harvest. 

When  sinners  die  quietly,  we  are  not  less  forcibly  taught  the 
same  lesson.  There  is  an  immense  difference  between  the  quiet 
of  a  dying  sinner,  and  the  peace  of  an  expiring  Christian.  The 
latter  is  the  result  of  clear  conviction  ;  of  sweet,  resigned,  obedi- 
ent affections  ;  of  divine  consolation  and  support ;  and  of  heaven- 
ly anticipations.  The  former  is  the  offspring  of  mere  stupidity ; 
of  hardness  of  heart,  and  blindness  of  mind  ;  of  wretched  self- 
righteousness  ;  and  of  a  total  insensibility  to  what  the  sinner  is, 
and  to  what  he  is  soon  to  be.  Nothing  can  more  awfully  shew 
how  dangerous  it  is  to  leave  the  life  of  the  soul  to  such  a  dismal 
and  unprofitable  death. 

All  these  facts,  and  facts  too  of  the  most  interesting  and  solemn 
nature,  press  this  great  truth  upon  the  survivors,  and  especially 
upon  the  surviving  and  afflicted  friends,  with  a  force  wholly  pe- 
culiar ;  a  force,  which  can  be  felt,  but  which  cannot  be  described. 
Every  man,  in  the  full  view  of  them,  ought  to  believe,  that,  al- 
though a  death  bed  repentance  is  sometimes  found,  yet,  if  he 
postpones  this  concern  to  that  unsuitable  and  unhappy  place,  he 
will  never  repent,  but  go  to  the  judgment  with  all  his  sins  upon 
his  head. 

Sixthly.  Afflictions  teach  us  most  important  instructions,  in  the 
consideration  of  the  characters  of  our  deceased  friends  ^  and  of 
their  conduct  during  their  lives,  and  at  their  deaths. 

This  class  of  instructions,  will  greatly  vary  with  the  ever  vary- 
ing characters  and  conduct  of  men. 


r>ER.  XV.]  IN  ADVERSITY.  217 

In  the  characters  of  our  deceased  friends,  if  they  were  Chris- 
tians, we  see  most  endearing  and  dehghtful  examples  of  persons, 
who  have  gone  through  hfe  with  true  wisdom,  and  effectually  se- 
cured the  end  of  their  being.  To  us  they  present  a  glorious  ex- 
ample, brought  home  to  our  hearts  by  a  thousand  interesting  con- 
siderations ;  of  their  obedience  to  God  ;  of  their  beneficence  to 
mankind;  of  their  wise  attention  to  the  concerns  of  the  soul; 
and  of  their  final  victory  over  every  danger,  and  every  enemy. 
The  means  which  they  employed  ;  the  efforts  which  they  made  ; 
the  resistance  which  they  manifested  to  temptation  and  to  sin  ; 
the  triumphs  which  they  attained  over  their  spiritual  enemies, 
evil  examples,  evil  communications,  powerful  lusts,  and  danger- 
ous snares  ;  furnish  us  with  a  pattern  of  wisdom  and  excellence, 
which  God  most  impressively  calls  upon  us  to  imitate.  To  be 
like  them  in  character  is  a  most  honourable  distinction :  to  see, 
like  them,  the  end  of  all  our  labours,  is  infinite  gain. 

Beyond  this,  we  are  assured,  that,  if  we  are  in  the  same  man- 
ner wise  and  faithful,  we  shall  be  hereafter  reunited  to  them  in  the 
world  of  happiness.  Thither  they  have  gone,  to  receive  their 
divine  reward.  There  they  will  be  found,  when  we  arrive  in  the 
same  delightful  world.  They  are  already  beginning  to  hail  the 
moment,  when  they  shall  see  us  agaia,  and  renew  the  former  af- 
fection and  intimacy  with  enhanced  endearment.  Already  do 
they  watch  for  the  hastening  moment,  which  will  release  us  from 
pain,  and  sin,  and  temptation ;  which  will  bear  us  on  its  wings  to 
the  glorious  assembly  in  which  they  are  enrolled  ;  and  which  will 
place  us  in  their  company  and  friendship,  beyond  the  danger,  as 
well  as  the  sufferance,  of  sin,  and  sorrow,  and  fear,  and  death. 
There  we  shall  see,  and  know,  and  love  them,  and  be  loved  by 
them,  forever.  Whatever  counsels  they  may  have  given  us, 
while  residing  in  the  present  world,  will  now  come  home  to  us, 
with  all  the  eflicacy  of  dying  words.  They  will  be  counsels, 
heard  from  beyond  the  grave  ;  monitions  from  the  regions  of  in- 
visible being. 

If,  on  the  contrary,  they  have  lived  in  sin,  and  died  v/ithout 
hope ;  they  yet  furnish  us  with  instructions  of  incalculable  im- 
portance. 


218  CONSIDERATIONS  [SEK.  XV, 

From  them,  we  learn  the  miserable  tolly  ol'  sin,  its  dread- 
ful tendency,  and  its  wretched  end.  How  solemnly  do  they 
warn  us,  that  "  her  house  is  the  way  to  hell,  going  down  to  the 
chambers  of  death  ?"  At  the  same  time  they  teach  us  in  the 
same  awful  manner,  the  folly  of  postponing  the  day  of  repent- 
ance. They  most  unhappily  have  postponed  it.  To  them  no 
"  convenient  season"  ever  arrived  for  beginning  this  great  busi- 
ness. Whatever  designs  they  planned,  whatever  resolutions  they 
formed,  on  this  subject,  all  of  them  proved  vain  and  abortive. 
"  As  the  fishes  are  caught  in  an  evil  net,  and  as  the  birds  are 
caught  in  the  snare ;  so  they  were  snared  in  an  evil  time,  when 
it  came  suddenly  upon  them." 

Their  deaths  also  teach  us,  what  were  the  means  of  their  ruin : 
the  love  of  pleasure,  of  wealth,  of  honour,  of  power,  of  sloth, 
of  self  deception,  and  self  justification.  Some  of  these  objects 
have  proved  fatal  to  them.  We  by  their  deaths  see  all  these 
things  brought  up  to  awful  view,  as  a  warning  to  us,  from  the 
world  of  sorrow ;  that  we  prove  not  miserable  victims  to  the 
same  enemies.  If  we  shun  them ;  we  shall  escape  the  ruin,  of 
which  they  have  been  the  cause.  If  we  follow  them  ;  the  same 
will  be  our  end. 

Seventhly.  The  ajflictedarc  especially  reminded  how  many  bles- 
sings they  have  left. 

A  serious  man  can  hardly  fail,  in  the  hour  of  sorrow  and  be- 
reavement, to  turn  his  eye  to  the  blessings,  which  God  has  been 
pleased  still  to  continue  for  his  enjoyment.  He  will,  I  think^ 
hardly  fail  to  say,  at  least  within  himself,  "  I  have  lost  property  ; 
but  still  I  have  bread  to  eat,  and  raiment  to  put  on.  I  am  sick  ; 
but  I  am  less  distressed  than  many  others  ;  and  I  am  surrounded 
by  friends,  whose  kindness  and  care  daily  alleviate  the  evils  of 
disease.  I  have  also  my  reason,  while  others  are  destitute  of 
this  essential  blessing,  and  are  groping  in  the  solitude  and  chains 
of  bedlam.  I  have  lost  children  ;  or  I  have  been  deprived  of 
friends  ;  but  I  have  long  enjoyed  their  company  and  kind  oflSces  ; 
and  interchanged  with  them  a  thousand  endearments.  I  have 
ako  many  friends ;  I  have  other  children  left  me  by  a  merciful 


3ER.  XV.J  IN  ADVERSITY.  219 

God.  I  have  still  many  things  given  me  richly  to  enjoy.  Of  all 
these  mercies,  even  of  the  least  of  them,  /  am  utterly  unworthy. 
Nothing  but  the  goodness  of  God  has  betovved,  or  even  devised 
them.  How  often  have  I  forfeited  them  all !  How  strange  is  it, 
that  they  should  be  continued  to  such  a  being  as  I  am !'' 

Eighthly.  The  affiicted  learn  from  their  affiictions,  and  not  un- 
frequently  for  the  first  time,  whither  they  are  to  look  for  consola- 
tion in  great  and  distressing  evils. 

They  cannot  derive  it  from  the  world.  ' 

In  all  the  mere  inconveniences  of  life,  the  world  is  able  to  fur- 
nish us  with  consolation,  which  is  felt  to  be  material,  and  gener- 
ally sufficient.  The  pleasures,  which  we  have  lost,  may  be  re- 
placed ;  or,  if  not,  may  have  their  places  supplied  by  some  other 
enjoyments,  equally,  or  perhaps  more,  agreeable. 

But  when  our  distresses  become  severe  and  intense,  the  bles- 
sing  is  gone,  and  cannot  be  replaced  ;  and  it  admits  of  no  sub- 
stitute. In  this  case,  the  world  is  a  barren  and  miserable  com- 
forter. 

You  have  lost  a  father  !  Where  can  another  i)c  found  ?  A 
mother.  Who  can  supply  her  place  ?  A  child.  W  hat  can  fill 
the  vacant  heart  ?  A  brother,  or  a  sister.  Where  can  you  hope 
to  find  them  again  ?  More  distressing  still,  you  have  been  bereav- 
ed of  the  husband  of  your  youth,  or  the  wife  of  your  bosom. 
Who  can  bring  them  back  from  the  grave  ?  Who  can  stand  in 
their  stead  ?  You  are  doomed  to  hopeless  sickness  and  languish- 
ing ?  How  can  the  world  release  you  from  the  bondage  ?  You 
are  sunk  in  infamy.  Can  the  world  restore  your  good  name  : 
or  the  happiness  which  it  gave  ? 

Go  to  the  world,  full  of  the  confidence,  which  you  are  accus- 
tomed to  place,  in  it,  and  ask  whether  it  has  blessings  to  give, 
which  will  supply  the  places  of  those  which  you  have  lost.  What 
will  be  its  answer  ?  It  will  shew  its  hands,  naked  and  empty,  as 
full  proofs  of  its  poverty ;  or  turn  from  you,  without  even  deign- 
ing to  drop  the  tear  of  sympathy. 

You  have  a  broken  spirit.  Look  round  on  all  things  below 
the  sun  ;  and  tell  me,  whether  you  find  in  them  all  that  balm  oi 


220  CONSIDERATIONS  [SER.  XV 

Gilead,  which  alone  will  allay  your  anguish,  and  heal  the  ulcer 
of  the  heart.  The  world  is  a  wretched  empiric,  ignorant  alike 
of  your  disease,  and  of  its  cure  ;  and  after  a  long  and  empty  pa- 
rade of  skill  and  assiduity,  will  leave  you,  when  you  have  spent 
upon  it  your  all,  nothing  better ,  hut  rather  groivn  worse.  To  all 
your  other  sufferings  will  also  be  added  this  severe  and  dreadful 
one  ;  that  you  will  then  find  it  too  late  to  apply,  where  alone 
relief  could  have  been  found. 

The  afflicted  the  world  has  always  been  accustomed  to  regard 
with  a  cold  eye,  and  an  icy  heart.  To  the  mourner  it  is  a  soli- 
tude, dreary  and  desolate ;  in  which  he  is  alone ;  like  one  cast 
on  an  uninhabited  island  without  a  companion,  and  left  to  tell 
his  sorrows  to  the  rocks  and  the  waves.  To  the  man,  deprived 
of  his  property,  it  is  a  mere  almshouse  ;  where,  feeding  on  his 
own  pittance,  he  looks  abroad  and  sees  plenty  flowing  around 
him ;  but  it  flows  in  the  cup  of  Tantalus,  which  he  is  doomed 
never  to  taste.  To  the  man  who  has  lost  his  good  name,  howev- 
er innocent  he  may  be,  it  is  a  barred  castle,  into  which  he  can 
gain  no  admission  ;  where  he  hears  nothing  but  the  hiss  of  con- 
tempt, and  sees  nothing  but  the  finger  of  derision  pointed  at 
himself.  To  the  hopeless  victim  of  disease  it  is  a  gloomy  lazar- 
house,  where  Sorrow  sighs  over  her  unceasing  anguish,  and  Des- 
pair in  ghastly  silence  fixes  his  eye  on  a  neighbouring  tomb. 

But  from  Religion  the  afflicted  can  derive  consolation,  and 
sufficient  consolation,  in  every  sorrow. 

To  the  poor,  afflicted  race  of  man.  Religion  is  a  heavenly  mes- 
senger ;  who,  like  the  angels  sent  to  the  Bethlehem  shepherds,  to 
announce  the  birth  of  the  Saviour,  while  she  proclaims  unceas- 
ingly "  Glory  to  God  in  the  highest,"  sings,  also,  "  peace  on  earth, 
and  good  will  towards  men."  Towards  every  sufferer,  labouring 
under  heavy  sorrows,  and  in  the  midst  of  despondency  casting 
around  his  eyes  in  vain  to  find  consolation  and  relief,  she  ap- 
proaches with  her  own  serene  and  benevolent  smile,  and  proffers 
herself  as  a  comforter  to  mourners.  In  her  hand  she  carries  the 
word  of  God  ;  and  opening  the  wonderful  book,  points  to  lines 
written  with  the  divine  finger,  and  dictated  by  the  voice  of  infi- 


SER.  XV.]  IN  ADVERSITY^  221 

nite  compassion.  "  Behold,"  she  cries,  "  the  testimonies  of  the 
Lord  are  the  heritage  of  the  afflicted,  forever.  They  are  the  re- 
joicing of  the  broken  heart."  In  this  sacred  volume  read,  and 
find  all  the  relief,  which  your  sorrows  need.  Here  the  infinitely 
blessed  Jehovah  has  pourtrayed  himself,  in  characters  of  light, 
as  "  the  Father  of  all  mercies,  and  the  God  of  all  grace  and  con- 
solation." Here  he  has  disclosed  himself  as  the  common,  kind, 
and  compassionate  parent  of  men  ;  and  has  taught  them  that  all 
his  chastisements  are  inflicted  only  for  the  good  of  the  sufferers  ; 
that  it  is  their  frowardness,  which  requires  them  ;  and  their  fro- 
wardness  only,  which  prevents  them  from  being  the  choicest  bles- 
sings. To  cure  your  melancholy  diseases,  to  overcome  your 
dangerous  and  deadly  passions,  they  have  descended  on  you ; 
that  you  may  be  a  partaker  of  his  holiness  and  live  forever.  The 
boundless  love,  which  contrived  the  deliverance  of  this  world 
from  sin  and  ruin,  is  here  seen  to  watch  with  infinite  tenderness 
over  you.  Hear  the  affectionate  language,  in  which  is  disclosed 
to  you  the  glorious  and  benevolent  character  of  Him  who  made 
you.  "  The  Lord  is  my  shepherd  ;  I  shall  not  want.  He  maketh 
me  to  lie  down  in  green  pastures  :  he  leadeth  me  beside  the  still 
waters.  He  restoreth  my  soul :  he  leadeth  me  in  the  path  of 
righteousness  for  his  names  sake.  Yea,  though  I  walk  through 
the  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death,  I  will  fear  no  evil :  for  thou 
art  with  me  ;  thy  rod  and  thy  staff  they  comfort  me.  Thou  pre- 
parest  a  table  befoi^  me  in  the  presence  of  mine  enemies  :  thou 
anointest  my  hea3  with  oil ;  my  cup  runneth  over.  Surely  good- 
ness and  mercy  shall  follow  me  all  the  days  of  my  fife :  and  I 
will  dwell  in  the  house  of  the  Lord  forever." 

Hear  his  own  most  wonderful  words,  and  learn  that  exalted 
character  from  his  own  mouth.  "  Thus  saith  the  High  and  lofty 
One,  that  inhabiteth  eternity,  whose  name  is  Holy ;  I  dwell  in 
the  high  and  holy  place  ;  with  him  also  that  is  of  a  contrite  heart 
and  humble  spirit ;  to  revive  the  spirit  of  the  humble,  and  to  re- 
vive the  heart  of  the  contrite  ones.  For  I  will  not  contend  forev- 
er, neither  will  I  be  always  wroth  ;  for  the  spirit  should  fail  before 
me,  and  the  souls  that  I  have  made."    In  exact  accordance 

Vol.  H.  29 


222  CONSIDERATIONS  [SER.  XV, 

with  this  character  he  also  declares,  "  When  thou  passest  through 
the  waters,  I  will  be  with  thee ;  and  through  the  rivers,  they 
shall  not  overflow  thee  ;  when  thou  walkest  through  the  fire, 
thou  shalt  not  be  burnt ;  neither  shall  the  flame  kindle  on  thee." 

Turn  we  now  to  another  page.  Here  behold  the  Saviour  of 
men,  the  Messiah  of  God,  "  by  whom  all  things  were  created, 
that  are  in  heaven,  and  that  are  in  earth,  visible,  and  invisible, 
whether  they  be  thrones,  or  dominions,  or  principalities,  or  pow- 
ers; who  is  the  brightness  of  his  father's  glory,  and  the  express  im- 
age of  his  person."  This  transcendent  person  is  here  seen  "  a  man 
of  sorrows,  and  acquainted  with  grief;"  sorrows  undergone  for  sin- 
ful men,  grief  voluntarily  borne  for  rebels  and  enemies.  In  what 
manner  did  he  bear  his  agonies;  such  as  never  were  borne  by  any 
other  ?  "  He  was  led  as  a  lamb  to  the  slaughter ;  and  as  a  sheep  be- 
fore her  shearers  is  dumb,  so  he  opened  not  his  mouth.  He  for  the 
joy  that  was  set  before  him  endured  the  cross,  despising  the  shame, 
and  is  now  set  down  at  the  right  hand  of  the  throne  of  God."  The 
whole  language  of  his  heart,  the  whole  language  of  his  life,  was 
"Not  my  will,  but  thine  be  done."  In  the  days  of  his  flesh  he  offered 
up  prayers  and  supplications,  with  strong  crying  and  many  tears, 
unto  him  that  was  able  to  save  him  from  death  ;  and  was  heard, 
in  that  he  feared.  Follow  his  glorious  and  perfect  example  ;  of- 
fer up  your  prayers  and  supplications  in  the  same  nanner ;  fear 
as  he  did,  and  you  will  be  heard.  By  his  own  temptations,  and 
sorrows,  "  he  is  become  a  merciful  High  Priestf^  who  can  be  touch- 
ed with  the  feeling  of  your  infirmities,"  and  those  of  all  the  race 
of  Adam.  Accordingly  he  has  declared,  that  "  the  bruised  reed 
he  will  not  break,  and  the  smoking  flax  he  will  not  quench,  till  he 
send  forth  judgment  unto  victory."  He  has  promised,  that  he 
"  will  never  leave  you  nor  forsake  you.  Peace  has  he  left  with  you, 
and  all  his  followers  ;  his  own  Peace  hath  he  given  unto  you  ;  not 
as  the  world  giveth  doth  he  give  unto  you." 

Are  you  distressed  and  perplexed  concerning  the  nature  and 
end  of  your  afflictions  ?  He  has  told  you  that,  "  although  no  aflHic- 
tion  for  the  present  is  joyous,  but  grievous,  nevertheless,  after- 
ward, it  yieldeth  the  peaceable  fruit  of  righteousness  unto  them 


SER.  XV.]  IN  ADVERSITY.  223 

that  are  exercised  thereby ;"  and  that,  heavy  as  it  may  seem  to 
you,  it  is  in  truth  comparatively  light ;  and  worketh  for  you  "  a 
far  more  exceeding  and  eternal  weight  of  glory." 

Behold  in  this  book,  also,  unanswerable  proofs,  that  your  af- 
flictions will  make  you  wiser  and  better,  produce  in  you  patience, 
submission,  resignation,  and  all  that  meek  and  lowly  spirit^  which 
in  the  sight  of  God  is  of  great  price  :  that  they  will  dissolve 
the  chains,  which  bind  you  to  dust  and  sin ;  prepare  you  by  spir- 
itual refinement  for  a  better  world ;  and  prune  and  strengthen 
your  wings  for  a  final  flight  to  the  regions  of  immortality. 

In  these  luminous  pages  see,  also,  the  declarations  of  the 
same  glorious  person,  that  the  friends  whom  you  lament,  are,  if 
they  have  loved  and  believed  him,  only  gone  before  you  to  that 
happy  world.  In  that  world  you  will  find  them  all ;  and  all  oth- 
ers whom  you  love  in  the  truth.  In  the  mean  time,  see  around 
you  those,  who  have  entered  that  same  happy  way,  weeping  with 
you  when  you  weep ;  taking  kindly,  and  readily,  a  share  in  all 
your  burdens ;  bearing  you  on  their  prayers  every  morning  and 
evening  to  the  throne  of  mercy  ;  and  calling  down  upon  you 
the  best  of  blessings. 

Such  are  some  of  the  consolations,  which  Religion  brings  to 
the  afflicted.  How  suited  are  they  to  the  circumstances  of  suf- 
ferers !  How  numerous  ;  how  great ;  how  divine  !  A  balm  to  that 
wounded  spirit,  which  none  can  bear,  and  none  beside  this  heav- 
enly physician  can  heal.  To  every  suflferer  who  loves  her  voice, 
and  delights  in  her  conversation,  she  is  a  constant  and  charming 
companion  by  night  and  by  day  ;  soothes  with  a  still,  small  voice 
all  his  sins  and  sorrows ;  spreads  the  path  of  life  with  roses  ; 
makes  his  bed  a  bed  of  down ;  surrounds  his  head  with  a  mild 
and  steady  sunshine  ;  and  opens  through  the  clouds  of  mortality 
a  bright  passage,  for  the  eye  of  Faith,  to  heavens,  clear,  serene, 
and  eternal. 

II.  I  shall  now  close  the  discourse  with  suggesting  several 
motives  for  this  consideration. 

1st.  It  is  the  command  of  God. 

The  path  of  duty  is  always  the  path  of  safety  ;  and  equally  so 
in  the  present  case,  as  in  any  other.     "  The  law  of  the  Lord  is 


224  (CONSIDERATIONS  [SER.  XV. 

perfect,  converting  the  soul :  the  testimony  of  the  Lord  is  sure, 
making  wise  the  simple.  The  statutes  of  the  Lord  are  right,  re- 
joicing the  heart :  the  commandment  of  the  Lord  is  pure,  enlight- 
ening the  eyes.  The  fear  of  the  Lord  is  clean,  enduring  forever: 
the  judgments  of  the  Lord  are  true  and  righteous  altogether." 
All  the  openings  of  his  lips  are,  as  he  has  said  they  should  be, 
right  things.  Consideration  is,  therefore,  to  the  afflicted,  rigJtt.  It 
w^ill  contribute  to  produce  all  these  divine  effects  ;  "  to  convert  the 
soul,  to  make  wise  the  simple,  to  rejoice  the  heart,  and  to  en- 
lighten the  eyes." 

Besides,  God  is  always  pleased  when  he  obeys.  To  please 
him  is  all,  for  which  we  were  made,  for  which  we  live.  To  an 
mgenuous  mind  no  joy  can  be  compared  with  serving  and  pleasing 
the  Lord.  Were  there  no  other  motive  to  this  conduct,  but  this, 
that  God  hath  required  it ;  this  would  determine  completely  the 
obedience  of  every  good  man ;  and  he  would  ask,  and  wish,  for  no 
other. 

But  happily  for  such  beings  as  we  are,  so  cold,  indifferent,  and 
dead  to  our  duty,  all  other  motives  unite  with  this  ;  all,  I  mean, 
which  ought  to  influence  a  rational  mind.     For 

2dly.  God  has  informed  ns,  that  it  is  better  to  go  to  the  house 
of  mournings  than  to  the  house  of  feasting :  for  that  is  the  end  of 
all  men ;  and  the  living  will  lay  it  to  heart. 

Even  to  those,  who  are  mere  visiters  in  the  house  of  mourning, 
there  is,  in  the  eye  of  God,  good,  furnished  by  that  melancholy 
mansion  ;  and  good,  which  even  they  will  naturally  find. 

The  two  reasons,  here  given  by  the  wise  man,  why  such  as 
visit  the  house  of  mourning  will  be  profited  by  going  to  it,  are 
the  nature  of  the  place,  and  the  emotions,  which  it  inspires  in 
their  hearts.  "  That  is  the  end  of  all  men  ;  and  the  living  will 
lay  it  to  heart."  The  end  of  all  men,  the  most  solemn  and  affec- 
ting of  all  things  here  below,  is  found  in  the  house  of  mourning; 
and  is  not  barely  taught,  but  most  affectingly  taught :  It  is  taught 
in  fact ;  in  the  person  of  a  friend,  or  neighbour  ;  one  whose  death 
affects  us  particularly,  on  a  great  variety  of  accounts.  Death  in 
such  circumstances  affects  us  deeply,  golemnly,  and  permanently. 


SER.  XV.J  IN  ADVERSITY.  225 

Be3'ond  this,  we  are  in  the  midst  of  the  mourning  family,  and 
by  tender  sympathy  share  in  all  their  sorrows,  while  they  are 
fresh  and  powerful.  We  cannot  fail  here  to  "  weep  with  those 
who  weep  ;  and  to  mourn  and  be  in  bitterness"  with  such,  as 
have  lost  perhaps  "  an  only  son,  and  are  in  bitterness  for  a  first 
born." 

Thus  we  see  here  the  end  of  all  men  in  the  clearest  light ;  and 
are  in  the  most  advantageous  situation  to  lay  it  usefully  to  heart. 
But  if  this  be  the  case  with  mere  visiters  ;  with  friends,  neigh- 
bours, or  even  strangers ;  how  much  more  advantageous  must 
be  the  situation  of  the  mourners  themselves  !  To  them  the  end 
of  all  men  is  brought  far  nearer;  and  their  tenderness  of  mind  is 
far  greater,  and  prepares  them  much  more  effectually  to  lay  it  to 
heart.  Their  minds  are  more  affected,  more  solemn,  and  better 
prepared  for  religious  impressions,  than  those  of  any  other  per- 
sons ;  and  more  than  they  themselves  are  in  any  other  circum- 
stances. 

But  to  lay  to  heart  the  end  of  all  men  is  one  of  our  most  im- 
portant duties,  and  highest  interests.  It  is  the  way  to  be  prepar- 
ed for  that  end  ;  to  become  religious  ;  to  be  fitted  for  heaven. 

Thus,  then,  the  afilicted,  especially  mourners,  enjoy  the  best 
opportunity,  commonly  afforded  by  the  Providence  of  God  for 
securing  the  end  of  their  being  ;  the  salvation  of  their  souls.  This 
opportunity  is  rendered  profitable  chiefly,  or  only,  by  wise  con- 
sideration. Of  course  our  highest  interest  demands  this  duty  at 
our  hands.  He,  therefore,  who  does  not  perform  it,  is  most  un- 
wise, and  lost  alike  to  his  duty,  and  to  his  supreme  interest. 

3dly.  As  afflictio7is  are  sent  to  bring-  us  to  consideration,  God, 
[f  he  designs  good  for  us,  must  be  expected  to  go  on  hi  his  course 
of  chastisement,  until  the  end  of  them,  viz.  our  reformation,  is  pro- 
duced. 

The  purposes  of  God  will  all  be  accomplished,  "  My  Counsel 
shall  stand,  and  I  will  do  all  my  pleasure."  "I  work;  and  who 
shall  let  it  ?"  Hence  we  ought  rationally  to  expect  affliction  to 
be  added  to  affliction,  until  the  rebellious  heart  is  broken,  and  the 
spirit  of  obstinacy  and  impenitence  subdued.     If  the  first  afflic- 


226  CONSIDERATIONS  [SER-  X.V. 

tions  accomplish  the  design  of  God  in  sending  them  ;  he  will  not 
make  use  of  others.  If  not ;  there  is  always  reason  to  fear,  that 
he  will  continue  his  chastisements,  until  he  has  brought  us  to 
submission  and  repentance.  The  smart  of  one  stroke  naturally 
leads  us  to  dread  another ;  and  therefore  common  prudence 
should  prompt  us  to  a  faithful  performance  of  this  duty. 

4thly.  God  way,  on  the  contrary,  and  often  does,  give  up  those, 
who  are  imreformed  hy  aviations,  to  hardness  of  heart. 

This  of  all  evils,  on  this  side  of  the  grave,  is  undoubtedly  the 
greatest.  It  is  no  other  than  an  anticipation  of  the  final  sen- 
tence of  the  wicked.  Yet  this  is,  unquestionably,  often  pronoun- 
ced in  the  present  world  ;  although  we  ourselves  are  not  warrant- 
ed to  apply  it  to  individuals.  In  conformity  to  this  doctrine,  God 
said  to  the  ancient  Jews,  "  Why  should  ye  be  stricken  any  more  ? 
Ye  will  revolt  more  and  more :"  and,  still  more  dreadfully  of 
Ephraim,  "  Ephraim  is  joined  unto  idols,  let  him  alone."  "  The 
earth,  which,"  in  this  sense,  "  drinketh  in  the  rain,  which  cometh 
oft  upon  it,  and"  still  "  beareth  thorns  and  briers,  is  rejected,  and 
is  nigh  unto  cursing.  The  miry  places  and  marshes,"  which  thus 
prove  that  they  "  cannot  be  healed,  are  given  to  salt."  If  re- 
peated afflictions  are  to  be  dreaded  by  those,  who  are  now  suf- 
fering ;  how  much  more  this  rejection,  this  final  desertion  of 
God. 

In  this  way  we  lose  the  best,  and,  as  the  case  is  supposed,  the 
only,  time  of  repentance  and  salvation.  As  our  hearts  are  now 
more  fitted  to  receive  divine  impressions,  than  in  any  ordinary 
circumstances  ;  so,  since  we  do  not  receive  and  feel  them  during 
this  happy  period,  there  is  no  reason  to  expect  that  we  shall  feel 
at  all. 

Sthly.  By  the  performance  of  this  duty  the  afflicted  will  obtain 
incalculable  good  now,  as  well  as  hereafter. 

"  Afflictions,"  of  course,  if  wisely  improved,  and  sanctified  by 
God,  "  yield  the  peaceable  fruits  of  righteousness."  If  wisely  im- 
proved by  us,  there  is  good  reason  to  hope,  that  they  will  be  thus 
sanctified.  Great  multitudes  of  mankind  are  hopefully  "  brought 
out  of  darkness  into  marvellous  light,"  during  seasons  of  severe 


SER.  XV.]  IN  ADVERSITY.  227 

affliction.  Then  the  first  views  begin,  the  first  affections  are 
cherished,  the  first  resolutions  are  formed,  which  introduce  all 
the  succeeding  happy  train  of  conduct  and  character  of  the 
sanctified  man.  Eternal  hfe  is  very  often  to  be  dated  from  the 
dying  bed  of  our  friends.  Religion  there  sits  kindly  and  con- 
stantly, to  persuade  us  to  admit  her  as  a  future  friend,  a  future 
and  eternal  inmate  of  our  bosoms,  Christ  there  solemnly  and 
affectingly  calls  on  us,  as  we  dread  death,  to  dread  sin,  the  cause 
of  death  ;  and  to  be  alarmed  with  the  thought  of  dying  forever  ; 
to  be  reconciled  to  God,  then  waiting  to  receive  us  to  his  arms  ; 
and  to  believe  in  himself  "  the  resurrection  and  the  life,"  that  he 
"  may  raise  us  up  at  the  last  day."  Salvation  here  dawns,  like 
the  day-star,  rising  out  of  a  night  of  gloom  and  tempest,  and  an- 
ticipating a  perfect  and  glorious  day.  The  soul,  here  under  a 
load  of  hopeless  sorrow,  finding  no  other  earthly  friend  or  com- 
forter, able  and  willing  to  relieve  its  distresses,  bows  before  its 
divine  Redeemer,  and  turns  to  the  Spirit  of  Grace  for  heavenly 
and  immortal  consolations.  Here  it  seeks,  so  as  to  find,  them  all. 
A  new  disposition  now  commences  in  the  soul ;  a  lively  confi- 
dence in  Christ ;  a  humble  sorrow  for  sin  ;  a  willing  submission 
to  God.  With  these,  are  found  "  peace  of  conscience,  and  joy 
in  the  Holy  Ghost ;"  delightful  companions ;  born  in  the  heav- 
ens, and  springing  from  a  Parent  infinite  and  divine  !  The  mind 
under  their  mild  and  sweet  influence  becomes  at  peace  with  it- 
self; at  peace  with  its  fellow  creatures  ;  at  peace  with  its  Ma- 
ker. "  The  North  wind  awakes"  in  it ;  "the  South  wind  blows" 
upon  it ;  its  blossoms  all  expand  ;  "its  spices  flow  out"  in  all  their 
fragrance.  The  spirit  of  truth  finds  a  residence,  in  which  he  is 
pleased  to  dwell.  Thenceforth  all  its  fruits  are  pleasant  and 
abundant,  acceptable  to  God,  useful  and  delightful  to  mankind. 
No  more  a  desolate  wilderness,  overgrown  with  briers  and  thorns, 
the  soul  has  become  "  a  well  watered  garden,  a  fruitful  field, 
which  the  Lord  hath  planted."  Like  Eden  it  blooms,  not  with 
beauty  only,  but  with  life  :  and  bear  fruits,  not  only  "  good  for 
food,  and  pleasant  to  the  eye,"  l)ut  fraught  with  the  principles 
and  the  hopes  of  immortality. 


SERMON  XVI. 

SERMON  ON  THE  OLD  YEAK. 

Psalm  xc.  9. 
We  spend  our  years,  as  a  tale  that  is  told. 

This  Psalm  is  composed  of  a  series  of  just,  forcible,  and  mel- 
ancholy reflections  on  the  shortness  and  vanity  of  life  ;  and  of  a 
fervent  and  most  interesting  prayer  for  such  blessings,  as  are  es- 
pecially suited  to  beings,  possessed  of  such  a  life.  It  is  styled 
"  A  prayer  of  Moses,  the  man  of  God  ;"  and  is  strongly  marked 
with  the  energetic  and  sublime  spirit,  every  where  visible  in  the 
writings  of  this  singular  man.  The  occasion,  on  which  it  is  sup- 
posed to  have  been  written,  was  the  termination  of  that  gradual 
change  in  human  life,  which  began  immediately  after  the  flood, 
and  reduced  the  period  from  a  thousand  to  seventy  years.  This 
termination  seems  to  have  been  accomphshed  at  the  time,  when 
the  rebellious  Israelites,  of  the  generation  which  went  out  of 
Egypt,  were  condemned  to  perish  in  the  wilderness.  Both  of 
these  subjects  appear  to  have  been  strongly  realized  by  the  wri- 
ter, and  directly  alluded  to  in  his  reflections  ;  and  were  therefore, 
I  think,  certainly  in  his  mind,  when  he  began  to  write. 

The  Psalm  is  a  poem  strictly  of  the  elegiac  kind  ;  and  is,  for 
its  length,  excelled  by  no  similar  human  composition,  in  the  pro- 
priety and  beauty  of  thought  and  description.  The  Lamentations 
of  Jeremiah  are  not  more  perfect ;  the  images  are  remarkably 
strong  and  happy  ;  and  the  thoughts  are  in  several  instances  pre- 
eminent specimens  of  philosophical  sublimity. 

The  great  change  in  human  life,  from  the  antediluvian  length 
to  its  present  date,  was  in  the  most  affecting  manner  exhibited  in 


SER.  XVI.]  SERMON  ON  THE  OLD  YEAR.  229 

the  destruction  of  this  generation  of  the  IsraeUtes.     From  two 
to  three  milHons  of  people  accompanied  Moses  from  Egypt  into 
the  wilderness  of  Sin.     All  these,  except  Caleb  and  Joshua,  and 
such  as  were  under  twenty  years  of  age,  when  they  passed  through 
the  Red  Sea,  were  miserably  cut  off  in  the  wilderness,  and  not 
permitted  to  enter  the  promised  land.     This  dreadful  dispensa- 
tion was  the  punishment  of  their  incorrigible  hardness  of  heart, 
and  their  numerous  rebellions  against  God.     A  more  melancholy 
scene  could  not,  therefore,  easily  be  presented  to  the  human  eye. 
To  Moses  it  must  have  been  singularly  affecting.     He,  commis- 
sioned by  God  himself,  had  in  a  most  wonderful  manner  rescued 
his  nation  from  the  iron  bondage  of  Egypt ;  conducted  them 
with  a  series  of  miracles  through  the  Red  Sea,  and  through  the 
wilderness  ;  published  to  them  the  law  of  God  ;  and  unfolded  to 
them  a  long  train  of  glorious  and  divine  promises.     In  this  dig- 
nified employment  he  had  presided  over  all  their  national  con- 
cerns, both  civil  and  military ;  had  spent  forty  years  of  his  life 
in  the  most  painful  labours ;  indulged  the  most  delightful  hopes  ; 
offered   up  unceasingly  the  most  fervent  prayers  ;  patiently  suf- 
fered a  train  of  severe  distresses ;  and  wished  even  to  part  with 
his  own  life  for  the  sake  of  his  people.     As  these  labours  and 
sufferings   were   drawing   near   to    a  close ;    he  beheld    those, 
for  whom  he  had  laboured  and  suffered,  cut  off  in  the  divine  an- 
ger, and  his  own  hopes  of  their  present  and  future  happiness 
shrouded  in  perpetual  darkness.     To  such  a  man,  in  such  circum- 
stances, how  painful  must  have  been  this  scene  ! 

Among  the  reflections,  contained  in  this  Psalm  a  very  interest- 
ing one  is  presented  to  us  in  the  text.  The  shortness  and  vani- 
ty of  life  is  a  subject,  in  which  every  man  will,  in  spite  of  himself, 
ever  find  a  deep  concern.  He  will  not  indeed,  like  Moses,  feel 
that  strong  interest  in  it,  forced  upon  the  mind  by  the  sight  of 
the  continual  and  regular  diminution  of  a  nation,  or  by  the  con- 
trast between  the  existing  date  of  human  life,  and  a  known,  pre- 
ceding longevity.  Still,  however  frequently  the  subject  is  men- 
tioned to  him,  in  whatever  form  of  expression  itis  rehearsed,  he  will 
always  find  his  mind  solemnly  arrested  ;  his  attention,  for  a  little 
Vol.  H.  30 


230  SERMON  ON  THE  [SER.  XVI. 

time  at  least,  irresistibly  engaged  ;  and,  if  he  is  not  inclined  to 
serious  and  useful  reflections,  his  heart  disposed  to  force  the  sub- 
ject away  from  his  contemplation,  because  it  is  painful.  No 
theme  of  reflection  has  been  oftener  adopted,  or,  in  a  greater 
variety  of  forms,  by  Moralists,  and  others  ;  no  subject  has,  per- 
haps, been  more  frequently  pronounced  trite  and  dull ;  or  more 
frequently  ridiculed,  as  unfit  to  engage  the  understanding,  the 
imagination,  or  the  heart.  Observations  on  it  are  styled  see-saw 
morahty  ;  and  discourses  about  it  are  spoken  of  as  mere  thrum- 
ming. Yet,  in  defiance  of  this  and  all  other  opposition,  it  still 
finds  a  way  to  the  heart.  We  cannot  be  told,  that  we  must  die^ 
and  that  we  may  die  to  morrow,  without,  at  the  least,  a  momen- 
tary check  to  pleasure,  sense,  and  sin.  We  cannot  be  told  of 
the  death  of  a  neighbour  without,  at  the  least,  a  transient  solem- 
nity ;  a  little  twinge  ;  an  involuntary  apprehension  concerning 
the  approach  of  our  own  end. 

This  truth  is  strikingly  manifested  in  the  conversation  of  men 
concerning  places,  and  seasons,  in  which  mortal  diseases  exist. 
Few  men  willingly  acknowledge  the  place,  in  which  they  live,  to 
be  undealthy ;  and  most  regard  the  bare  mention  of  such  a  fact 
w^ith  resentment.  In  times  of  sickness,  when  inquiries  are  made 
concerning  this  subject,  we  are  told,  that  it  is  indeed  a  sickly 
season ;  but  it  is  confined  chiefly  to  infants,  or  to  children. 
When  the  yellow  fever  rages,  we  are  told,  that  only  some  poor 
people  have  fallen  victims  to  the  pestilence.  In  this  phraseolo- 
gy it  is  intended  to  intimate,  that  adidts  in  the  one  case,  and  the 
rich  in  the  other,  are  hitherto  safe.  Yet  nothing  would  be  alleg- 
ed, as  a  reason  why  both  were  not  exposed,  in  such  a  case  ex- 
cept the  insidiousness  of  the  fear  which  persuades  us  to  put  far 
away  the  evil  day.  In  this  manner  we  testify,  among  other 
things,  the  alarm,  excited  in  our  minds  by  the  mortality  around 
us  ;  and  the  industry,  with  which  we  impose  on  ourselves  the  per- 
suasion that  we  are  safe ;  and  thus  exhibit  unquestionable  proof, 
indirect  as  it  seems,  that  a  sense  of  the  shortness  and  uncer- 
taintv  of  life  has  a  sufficient  influence  to  make  us  rely  on  trivial 
circumstances,  as  real  evidence  that  we  are  secure  from  danger. 


SER.  XVI.]  OLD  YEAR.  231 

A  tale  is  usually  a  momentary^  and  a  irijling,  amusement. 
When,  therefore,  our  hfe  is  compared  to  this  object,  we  are 
taught  on  the  one  hand,  that  it  is  a  transient  period  ;  and  on  the 
other,  that  it  is  spent  by  us  in  a  manner  merely  amusive,  and 
without  any  serious  or  important  benefit.  How  difierent  is  this 
manner  of  employing  life  from  that,  to  which  it  was  destined  by 
our  Creator  1  By  him  it  was  intended  to  be  to  each  one  of  us  a 
day  of  probation,  and  of  grace ;  a  season,  in  which  we  were  to 
renounce  our  sins,  accept  of  the  mercy  proffered  to  us  through 
the  Redeemer,  and  secure  a  title  to  a  happy  immortality.  In- 
finite importance  is  in  this  manner  stamped  on  this  litle  season. 
No  mind  was,  perhaps,  ever  more  feelingly  alive  to  this  fact,  than 
that  of  Moses ;  and  no  circumstances  could  more  strongly  im- 
press it  on  any  mind,  than  those  by  which  he  was  surrounded. 
We  cannot,  therefore  wonder,  at  the  strong  images,  by  which  he 
has  unfolded  his  views  of  it  to  mankind. 

The  End  of  a  year  is  undoubtedly  a  time,  which  presents 
these  truths  to  the  mind,  and  brings  them  home  to  the  heart  with 
peculiar  force.  There  is  something  melancholy  in  the  end  of  al- 
most every  thing.  The  evening  is  the  most  solemn  period  in  the 
day.  Saturday  is  the  least  cheerful  day  of  the  week.  The  ter- 
mination of  the  year  is  the  most  melancholy  season,  which  it  con- 
tains. Students,  at  an  early  period  of  their  collegiate  residence, 
usually  look  forward  to  the  close  of  it  with  pleasurable  anticipa- 
tion ;  but,  when  it  arrives,  rarely  fail  to  experience  a  depression 
of  spirits,  a  mournful  reluctance  to  part  with  the  place,  where 
they  have  so  long  lived.  The  word,  farewell,  seems  to  carry 
sorrow  in  its  very  sound.  How  often  do  we  find  friends,  when 
about  to  separate,  scarcely  able  to  pronounce  it,  and  contriving 
beforehand  to  avoid  a  solemn  formal  adieu.  The  termination  of 
a  ministry,  or  the  resignation  of  a  civil  office,  long  holden,  is 
rarely  met  by  any  man,  however  desirable  his  judgment  may  pro- 
nounce it,  without  feelings  of  irresistible  regret.  The  close  of 
life  is  undoubtedly  the  most  melancholy  event,  through  which 
we  pass  in  the  present  world  ;  and  requires  the  brightest  hopes 
of  a  glorious  immortaility  to  reconcile  to  it,  however  fi-ee  it  may 


232  SERMON  ON  THE  [SER.  XVI. 

be  from  pain  and  suffering,  either  the  mind  of  the  dying  person, 
or  the  minds  of  those  who  surround  his  bed. 

The  feehngs,  excited  by  this  consideration,  fit  us  in  a  peculiar 
manner  to  contemplate,  with  high  advantage,  many  subjects  of 
great  importance,  and  utihty.  They  are  all  serious  feehngs ;  and 
therefore  suited  to  serious  contemplation.  They  are  solemn  ; 
they  are  affecting ;  and  therefore  suited  to  subjects,  which  are 
solemn  and  deeply  interesting  to  the  mind.  In  such  a  state  eve- 
ry subject  is  regarded  with  more  concern  than  in  any  other  ;  and 
leaves  impressions  more  permanent,  and  more  influential. 

We  are  now  about  to  bid  farewell  to  another  year.  Its  last 
suns  are  rolling  through  their  circuit,  and  about  to  set  forever. 
Its  day  is  spent ;  its  evening  is  beginning  to  fade  into  never-en- 
ding darkness.  Many  important  events  joyful  or  melancholy, 
useful  or  useless  to  us,  has  it  brought  into  being,  during  its  course. 
Its  nature,  continuance,  advantages,  or  disadvantages  ;  and  the 
manner  in  which  it  has  been  employed  ;  together  with  various 
other  things,  well  deserve  to  be  recalled,  and  reviewed  by  us. 
With  the  feelings,  which  I  have  mentioned,  we  may  profitably 
survey  all  these,  and  many  more,  objects  of  instruction,  natural- 
ly presented  by  this  period  ;  and  may  make  them  means  of  real 
and  lasting  good. 

Among  these  objects  I  shall  select  the  following,  as  being  of 
serious  import  to  all  who  hear  me. 

1  St.   The  shortness  of  human  life. 

The  year,  which  we  have  almost  finished,  is  a  seventieth  part 
of  the  life  of  man.  How  little  does  that  part  now  seem  !  When 
it  commenced,  its  end  appeared  to  be  distant ;  yet  how  soon  has 
it  arrived !  How  momentary  the  space  between  its  commence- 
ment and  its  conclusion  !  How  few,  indistinct,  and  feeble,  are 
the  traces  of  it  in  our  recollection  !  How  faint  an  image  of  its 
varied  events  are  we  able  to  call  up  before  the  mind  !  How  much 
does  the  flight  of  its  days,  weeks,  and  months,  resemble  a  tale 
that  is  told  ! 

Oo  to  the  man  of  grey  hairs ;  and  he  will  tell  you,  that  seven- 
ty such  years  seem  to  him  but  little  longer  than  one ;  and  that 


SER.  XVI.]  OLD  YEAR.  233 

his  own  life,  styled  long  in  the  customary  language  of  men,  is  in 
his  view  more  like  a  dream  than  a  reality  •,  that  it  has  fleeted 
away  before  he  was  aware,  and  has  scarcely  left  an  abiding  im- 
pression on  his  memory ;  that,  since  he  arrived  at  the  age  of 
twenty,  every  year  has  become  shorter  than  the  preceding  ;  and 
that  a  month  in  his  youth,  or  childhood,  seemed  to  him  as  long, 
as  twelve,  in  the  decline  of  life.  What,  according  to  this  unex- 
ceptionable testimony,  is  then  the  amount  of  the  whole  term  al- 
loted  to  man  ?  How  strongly  does  it  resemble  "  a  tale  that  is  told !" 

2dly.  The  manner,  in  which  life  has  been  spent  by  us,  is,  at 
such  a  time  a  most  solemn  object  of  consideration. 

How  strongly  does  this  also,  resemble  the  allusion  in  the  text ! 
We  tell,  and  hear,  tales,  without  any  serious  concern,  or  thought; 
and  intend  only  to  be  amused  by  them  during  the  period  of  the 
rehearsal.  How  much  is  this  the  manner,  in  which  life  is  passed 
by  multitudes.  Tales  are  frequently  told  to  excite  merriment;  fre- 
quently, to  awaken  wonder ;  frequently,  to  move  temporary  feel- 
ings of  sympathy  ;  frequently,  to  while  away  an  idle  hour ;  and 
frequently,  to  enjoy  the  pleasure  of  telling  them.  When  the  re- 
cital is  finished,  the  purpose,  for  which  it  exists,  is  also  finished. 
It  is  followed  by  no  consequence,  either  useful  or  entertaining. 
The  emotions,  whether  serious  or  sportive,  terminate  with  the 
story  ;  and  both  are  speedily  lost  and  forgotten.  Life  then  goes 
on  exactly  as  it  did  before ;  and  all  things  remain  just  as  they 
would  have  been,  if  the  rehearsal  had  never  been  made.  On 
futurity  it  was  never  designed  to  have  any  influence  ;  not  even  on 
a  day,  or  an  hour. 

In  a  manner  similar  to  this  is  life  spent  by  no  small  part  of 
the  human  race.  The  hearers  of  tales  are  not  more  perfectly 
the  mere  votaries  of  amusement,  during  the  periods  of  listening 
to  them,  than  multitudes  are  during  the  whole  progress  of  life : 
not  more  given  up  to  the  indulgence  of  wonder,  and  other  emp- 
ty and  useless  emotions  ;  nor  to  the  killing  of  time  ;  nor  to  the 
vanity  of  being  listened  to  by  a  gaping  circle.  This  amusement, 
also,  terminates  in  itself;  and  is  not  designed  to  have  any  effect 
upon  that  which  is  to  come.     Its  whole  end  is  to  produce  enjoy- 


-234  SERMON  ON  THE  [SER.  XVI. 

ment  while  it  lasts ;  enjoyment,  intended  to  be  found  in  toying 
and  trifling,  without  a  wish  exercised,  or  an  attempt  made,  to 
become  wise,  virtuous,  or  useful.  The  pleasures  of  to  day  are 
not  intended  even  to  prepare  pleasures  to  morrow ;  but  those  of 
to  morrow  are  left  to  the  direction  of  that  chance,  which  is  con- 
sidered as  having  given  birth  to  those  of  to  day.  Mere  butter- 
flies, they  flutter  from  field  to  field,  and  from  flower  to  flower, 
heedless  that  the  summer,  in  which  they  sport,  will  be  soon  suc- 
eeeded  by  a  season  of  frost  and  death. 

In  the  same  manner,  also,  every  period  of  life  is  by  persons  of 
this  character  chiefly  forgotten,  and  employed  to  no  useful  pur- 
pose. Instead  of  reviewing  at  night  the  conduct  of  the  day,  or 
at  the  close  of  a  week,  or  a  year,  the  events  which  have  existed 
in  its  progress  ;  instead  of  learning  from  past  errors,  and  past 
sins,  future  wisdom  and  reformation ;  instead  of  being  admon- 
ished by  the  reproofs,  alarmed  by  the  judgments,  solemnized  and 
softened  by  the  afflictions,  and  charmed  to  gratitude  and  repent- 
ance by  the  mercies,  furnished  by  a  holy  and  gracious  Provi- 
dence; they  hurry  from  enjoyment  to  enjoyment,  and  bustle  from 
sport  to  sport ;  embosomed,  and  lost,  in  the  present  gratification ; 
forgetful  that  much  good  may  be  hereafter  secured,  and  much 
evil  avoided  by  prudent  forecast,  even  in  the  present  world  ;  and 
that  endless  happiness  must  be  gained,  or  endless  misery  suffered, 
in  the  world  to  come. 

This  subject  we  are  now  solemnly  required  to  apply  to  our- 
selves, and  to  call  up  to  our  view  the  manner,  in  which  life  has 
been  spent  by  us.  As  this  is  an  object  far  too  multiform  and  com- 
plicated, to  admit  of  a  particular  examination  at  the  present 
time  ;  it  will  be  more  useful  to  confine  our  researches  to  the  past 
year.  The  subject,  here,  will  be  less  perplexed,  and  more  fresh 
in  every  one's  remembrance.  Let  me  then  call  upon  every 
person  present  to  look  back  upon  his  own  life,  at  this  period ; 
and  see  whether  it  has  not  strongly  resembled  "  a  tale  that  is 
told." 

You  have  all  throughout  this  period  been  furnished  by  the 
bountiful  hand  of  God,  with  many  privileges.     A  seventieth  part 


SER.  XVI.]  OLD  YEAR.  235 

of  human  life  has  been  added  to  your  preceding  years.  To 
what  purpose  has  it  been  employed  ?  To  any,  which  you  dare 
mention,  even  to  yourselves  ;  or  on  which  you  can  turn  back  the 
eye  of  remembrance  with  comfort  ?  God  has  put  into  your  hand 
his  holy  word ;  and  given  you  knowledge,  to  read  and  under- 
stand the  truths  which  it  declares,  and  the  duties  which  it  enjoins. 
Has  the  gift  been  regarded  by  you  with  gratitude,  or  used  by 
you  with  profit  ?  Would  it  not  have  been  better  disposed  of,  had 
you  given  it  to  some  humble,  illiterate  man,  who  would  have 
spelled  out  its  contents,  and  in  some  measure  yielded  his  heart  to 
their  direction.  Your  closets  have  stood  open  round  the  year, 
that  you  might  enter  in,  and  "  bow  your  knees  to  the  Father  of 
all  mercies."  Has  his  eye  beheld  your  knees  bow,  or  his  ear 
heard  your  prayers  ascend,  in  that  secret  place  ;  or  has  the  year 
rolled  round  its  circuit,  and  witnessed  no  solitary  petition  from 
your  lips  ;  and  left  you,  as  it  found  you,  without  prayer,  and 
"  without  God  in  the  world  ?"  Fifty-two  Sabbaths  have  in  the 
same  period  invited  you  to  the  house,  and  to  the  ordinances  of 
God.  In  what  manner  have  you  regarded  the  invitation  ?  Have 
you  loved,  and  laboured,  to  worship  him  "  acceptably  ;  with  rev- 
erence and  godly  fear  V  Has  his  house  been  "  a  house  of  prayer" 
to  you  ?  Have  your  hearts  united  with  those  around  you  "  in 
praising  the  Lord  for  his  goodness"  to  you,  "  and  for  his  wonder- 
ful works"  to  your  fellow  men  ?  Have  the  solemn  discourses, 
which  by  his  own  appointment  were  there  addressed  to  you,  found, 
or  awakened,  in  you  a  disposition  to  hear,  to  learn,  or  to  obey? 
Have  they  awakened  in  you  a  sense  of  guilt  and  danger ;  and 
prompted  you  to  fly  to  Christ  for  safety  ?  Have  you  had,  have 
you  now,  believing,  penitent,  and  obedient  hearts  1  Are  your  lives 
purified  from  the  stains  of  sin,  and  adorned  with  the  beauty  and 
excellency  of  righteousness  ?  Have  you  begun  to  hope,  that  you 
are  the  children  of  God  ?  Have  the  conversation  and  example 
of  those,  whom  you  believe  to  be  his  children,  become  desirable 
and  pleasant  ?  Has  the  light  of  heaven  dawned  in  your  minds, 
and  begun  the  promises  of  a  future  and  immortal  day  ? 


236  SERMON  ON  THE  [SER.  XVI- 

While  these  things  are  passing  in  review  before  you,  let  me  ex* 
hort  }'ou  to  remember,  that  all  the  transactions  of  this  same  year 
you  will,  there,  be  called  not  only  to  examine,  but  to  recount :  the 
manner,  in  which  you  have  spent  every  moment  which  it  con- 
tained ;  the  improvement,  or  abuse,  of  every  privilege ;  the 
thoughts  and  affections  which  you  have  cherished ;  the  words 
which  you  have  uttered  ;  and  the  works  which  you  have  done. 
Naked  to  the  view  of  the  All-seeing  eye,  they  vvill  all,  then,  be 
naked  to  your  view  also.  Are  you  prepared  for  their  recital;  and 
satisfied,  that  the  result  of  it  will  be  comfortable  to  you  ?  Are 
you  ready  to  have  all  your  conduct  scanned,  the  recesses  of  your 
souls  laid  open  ;  and  your  final  allotment  determined  according 
to  the  manner,  in  which  God  has  seen  you  live  ? 

3dly.  It  will  he  useful,  at  such  a  season,  to  remember  how 
many  things  have  this  year  been  brought  to  an  end. 

The  restless  mind  of  man  has  through  this,  as  through  former 
periods,  toiled,  and  cared,  and  watched,  with  its  usual  anxiety, 
to  gain  the  objects  of  sense  and  sin.  In  how  many  instances 
have  this  toil  and  trouble  been  in  vain  !  Avarice  has  dug.  Ambi- 
tion has  climbed,  and  Voluptuousness  has  wantoned,  in  the  ea- 
ger search  for  wealth,  fame,  power,  and  pleasure.  But  how  of- 
ten has  the  bankrupt,  the  shipwreck,  or  the  fraud,  robbed  the 
miser  of  his  pelf;  and  left  him  to  sigh  in  poverty  and  sorrow. 
How  often  has  a  more  successful  candidate,  or  a  changing  popu- 
lace, or  a  fickle  sovereign,  blasted  the  fond  hopes,  indulged  by 
the  votary  of  power  ;  and  snatched  the  darling  office  from  his 
hands,  just  opened  to  grasp  it !  How  often  has  pleasure,  like  the 
humming-bird,  receded  from  the  silly  child  of  sense,  as  he  was  ap- 
proaching to  seize  it ;  and,  retiring  from  flower  to  flower,  always 
eluded  his  speed  and  cunning,  till  finally  it  skimmed  away,  and 
vanished  from  his  sight !  And  how  uniformly  has  the  good,  ex- 
pected by  these  worldings,  disappeared  at  the  moment,  when 
they  had  compassed  the  darling  object  of  their  wishes,  and  left 
nothing  but  vacuity  and  disappointment  behind. 

How  frequently,  also,  has  disease  arrested  them  all,  in  the 
midst  of  their  highest  hopes,  of  their  most  eager  pursuit  of  earth- 


SER.  XVI.]  OLD  YEAR.  23f 

ly  good  !  How  frequently  has  the  palsy  withered  the  limbs  and 
,  shrunk  the  faculties  of  the  mind  ;  and  the  consumption  blasted 
">  the  hopes  even  of  life ;  and  forced  the  eye  to  turn  its  view  fiom 
splendour  and  revelling  to  the  dreary  grave !  How  often  has  melan- 
choly shrouded  the  soul  in  gloom,  covered  the  bright  light  of 
heaven,  and  changed  the  world  into  a  cavern  of  darkness  and 
solitude ;  or  Delirium  extinguished  the  lamp  of  reason,  changed 
the  man  into  a  wild  beast,  and  hurried  him  to  the  seclusion  and 
chains  of  a  dungeon  ! 

How  often  has  Death  called  to  the  unthinking  wretch,  who  for- 
got that  he  was  not  to  live  here  forever ;  and  said  with  a  dreadful 
voice,  "  thou  fool,  this  night  thy  soul  shall  be  required  of  thee  !'' 
In  obedience  to  this  summons  the  fond,  infatuated  worshipper  of 
this  world  has,  amidst  the  gayest  hopes  and  most  confident  prom- 
ises of  temporal  gratification,  quitted  the  beloved  objects  of  his 
pursuit ;  and  instead  of  heaping  up  gold,  glittering  in  power  and 
splendour,  and  wallowing  in  sensuality,  gone  down  to  the  grave ; 
appeared  before  the  bar  of  God  ;  given  up  an  account  of  his 
sins  ;  and  been  consigned  to  endless  poverty,  ruin,  and  despair. 

The  number  of  the  inhabitants  of  this  world  has  been  estimated 
from  seven  hundred  and  fifty  to  nine  hundred  millions.  We 
will  suppose  the  former  number  to  be  correct.  The  life  of  man 
has  been,  with  a  good  degree  of  accuracy,  supposed  to  be  thir- 
ty years.  One  generation  of  the  human  race  therefore,  or  seven 
hundred  and  fifty  millions  of  mankind,  leave  this  world  and  en- 
ter into  eternity,  within  this  period.  Twenty  five  millions,  of 
course,  die  in  a  single  year ;  are  summoned  to  the  judgment;  and 
enter  upon  the  recompence  of  reward.  To  the  probation  of  so 
many  accountable  beings  this  year  has  in  all  probability  put  a 
period. 

At  the  same  time  how  many  innocent  and  lawful  enjoyments 
have  been  also  terminated  during  this  period  !  How  many  per- 
sons have  lost  their  health,  property,  comforts,  and  hopes  !  How 
many  friends  and  families  have  been  separated  by  death ;  whose 
affection,  kind  offices,  and  mutual  pleasure,  can  never  be  renew- 
ed on  this  side  of  the  grave. 

Vol.  H.  31 

ft     . 


238  SERMON  ON  THE  [SER.  XVI 

In  a  multitude  of  instances,  also,  the  blessings  of  Providence 
have  been  wasted  by  thoughtless  negligence,  and  giddy  profu- 
sion. These  can  never  be  recalled  ;  nor  the  opportunity  of  em- 
ploying them  to  the  accomplishment  of  those  valuable  ends,  for 
which  they  were  given. 

In  no  small  number  of  instances,  also,  the  day  of  probation, 
and  the  means  of  grace,  have  been  lost  with  a  negligence  and 
prodigality  still  more  thoughtless  and  dreadful.  From  some  of 
the  wretched  prodigals  it  is  neither  unnatural,  nor  uncharitable, 
to  suppose,  that  God,  by  giving  them  up  to  their  own  desires, 
has  finally  taken  away  all  disposition  to  a  future,  wise,  and  prof- 
itable use  of  these  blessings ;  so  that,  hereafter,  his  word  will 
fail  of  all  useful  efficacy  on  them  ;  and  sabbaths  return,  the  sanc- 
tuary open  its  doors,  prayers  ascend,  and  sermons  call  to  repent- 
ance and  eternal  life,  in  vain.  To  these  persons  Christ  has  proffer- 
ed himself  for  the  last  time  ;  the  last  sound  of  the  voice  of  mercy 
jias  died  upon  the  ear ;  and  the  evening  of  hope  has  terminated 
in  everlasting  night.  "The  vessel  of  wrath""  is  now  continued 
only  till  it  shall  be  "  full,"  and  thus  completely  fitted  for  destruc- 
tion. 

In  many  more  instances  the  instructions  of  parents  have  par- 
tialhj  lost  their  influence:  The  warnings  of  God's  providence, 
and  the  threatenings  and  promises  of  his  word,  have  failed  of 
their  effect :  tenderness  of  conscience,  gradually  decaying,  has 
degenerated  towards  hardness  of  heart,  and  apprehensiveness 
of  guilt  towards  security  in  sin.  In  this  manner  the  soul,  insen- 
sibly to  itself,  is  removed  farther  from  repentance,  life,  and 
hope  :  and  the  "  power  of  darkness"  advanced  towards  an  as- 
cendancy over  it,  final  and  fatal. 

4thly.  It  is  peculiarly  proper  at  such  a  time  that  ive  should 
call  to  mind  what  we  have  done^  during  the  past  year. 

Every  person  present  is  reasonably  required  to  make  to  him- 
self an  application  of  the  several  considerations,  which  have  been 
already  nentioned.  With  equal  propriety  is  he  expected  to  call 
up  to  his  view  the  things  which  he  has  done.  Among  these,  his 
sins  undoubtedly  will  hold  an  important  place.     Think,  I  beseecl* 


SER.  XVI.]  OLD  YEAR.  239 

yoQ,  how  many  sins  you  have  severally  committed  in  a  single  day  ; 
how  many  more  in  a  week  ;  how  greatly  they  have  been  multi- 
plied in  a  month ;  and  to  what  a  vast  number  they  have  arisen 
in  the  compass  of  a  year.     How  many  evil  thoughts  and  affec- 
tions ;  how  many  murmurings  and  repinings  against  God  ;  how 
many  lewd,  injurious,  and  base  purposes  have  been  formed  and 
cherished  in  the  soul ;  how  many  words  of  unkindness,  falsehood, 
profaneness,  and  obscenity,  have  been  uttered  ;  how  many  iniqui- 
tous, unjust,  fradulent,  rebellious,  and  impious  actions  have  been 
done  ?  How  often  you  have  hardened  your  hearts  against  the 
threatenings  of  future  wo,  the  reproofs  of  sin,  and  the  invitations 
to  repentance  and  faith  in  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ !  How  often  you 
have  perverted,  and  ridiculed,  the  word  and  worship  of  God  ; 
profaned  the  Sabbath  ;  tempted  those  around  you  to  sin  ;  exhi- 
bited a  baleful  example  of  impiety  ;  "  grieved  the  Holy  Spirit ;" 
and  "  crucified  afresh  the  Lord  of  glory  by  your  unbelief!  "  How 
often,  also,  have  you  preferred  all  other  conduct  to  your  duty, 
and  all  other  things  to  your  souls  ;  devised  means  to  withdraw 
yourselves  and  others  from  repentance  and  reformation ;  volun- 
tarily contributed  to  your  own  perdition,  and  to  theirs  ;  and  thus 
assumed,  at  the  same  time,  the  character   of  assassins  and  sui- 
cides.    At  the  same  time  I  would  charitably  hope,  that  such  is 
not,  in  the  same  absolute  manner,  the  character  of  all  who  hear 
me.     Will  it  be  too  much  to  be  presumed,  that  tenderness  of 
conscience  has  in  some  instances  been  increased  ;  that  a  few 
persons  in  this  assembly  have  exercised  more  solemn  and  just 
thoughts,  than  heretofore,  concerning  their  moral  state,  and  their 
salvation  ;  and  that  some  of  you  seriously  intend  to  obtain  eter- 
nal hfe  ?  How  different  is  the  state  of  this  assembly,  at  the  pres- 
ent time,  from  what  the  eyes  of  some,  who  are  present,  beheld 
at  a  former  period  !  In  the   year  1 802,  about  fifty  youths,  mem- 
bers of  this  College,  gave  themselves  up  to  God  in  the  Covenant 
of  grace.     This  year  has  seen  but  one  solitary  dedication  of  this 
nature.     How  do  "  the  ways  of  Zion  mourn,  because  few  come 
to  her  solemn  feasts  ?" 


240  SERMON  ON  THE  [SER.  XVI 

5thly.  At  this  time,  also,  we  are  affectingly  required  to  ask  ouT' 
selves  the  following  questions. 

First.    What  reason  can  we  give  for  spending  our  life,  as  we 
have,  in  many  instances,  actually  spent  it. 

Can  you,  my  hearers,  render  to  your  consciences  an  excuse, 
with  which  they  will  be  satisfied,  for  the  manner  in    which  you 
have  lived  during  this  period ;  a  reason,  which  they  will  admit, 
why  you  have  continued  in  sin  ;  neglected  your  salvation  ;  haz- 
arded the  eternal  welfare  of  your  souls ;  and  put  them  on  the 
risk  of  final  perdition  ;  a  reason,  why  you  have  not  obeyed  God 
with  all  the  heart ;  yielded  yourselves  to  Him,  as  his  children,  in 
the  covenant  of  peace;  besought  him  with  all  humility  of  muid, 
with  strong  crying,  and  many  tears,  to  pardon  your  manifold 
sins  ;  turned  to  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  with  a  sincere  repentance, 
and  faith  in  his  blood  ;  and  consecrated  your  hearts  and  your 
lives  to  the  service  of  God,  and  "•  your  generation,  according  to 
His  will  ?"  Can  you  find  a  reason  why  you  have  wasted  this  year, 
with  all  the  Sabbaths,  privileges,  and  blessings  which  it  contain- 
ed ;  a  reason,  which  you  will  be  wilhng  to  allege  before  the  bar 
of  God  ;  a  reason,  which  he  will  admit;  a  reason,  which  will 
stand  you  in  stead  in  that  trying  hour  1 

Second.  Let  me  ash  for  you.  What  have  you  gained  by  liv- 
ing this  year  ? 

Are  you  less  sinful  ?  Are  you  more  sober-minded  ?  Are  your 
consciences  more  tender  ?  Do  you  think   more  frequently  and 
solemnly,  on  death  and  the  judgment ;  on  the  immense  impor- 
tance of  life,  as  the  day  of  probation  ;  on  the  amazing  nature  of 
eternity,  as  the  season  of  reward  ?  Have  you  formed  and  retain- 
ed useful  resolutions  of  speedy  repentance  and  amendment  of 
life  ?  Have  you  begun  to  ask   God  to  save  you,  or  to  look  to 
Christ  for  redemption  ?  Have  you  considered  whether  you  have 
souls  to  be  saved  ;  or  once  thought,  during  the  preceding  twelve 
months,  that  then  was  peculiarly  "  the  accepted  time  ?"  Are  you 
wiser,  or  better,  than  when  the  year  began  ?  Are  you  nearer  to 
heaven  ?  Have  you  gained  any  thing,  which  your  minds  can  now 
recall ;  and  which  you  will  be  willing  to  rehearse  beyond  the 
srave  ? 


SER.  XVI.]  OLD  YEAR,  241 

Third.  Let  me  further  ask  you,  What  you  have  lost  ? 

This  question  let  me  also  answer.  If  you  have  not  gained  the 
things,  which  I  mentioned  under  the  last  question;  you  have  lost 
a  year,  with  all  the  hopes  and  blessings  which  it  brought  on  its 
wings.  The  bounties  of  God's  Providence  have  been  bestowed 
on  you  in  vain.  The  proffers  of  his  grace  have  been  made  to 
you  in  vain.  In  vain  have  the  glad  tidings  of  the  gospel  been 
proclaimed  to  you.  In  vain  has  the  Sabbath  dawned  on  you 
with  peace  and  hope  ;  the  sanctuary  invited  you  to  the  mercy 
seat ;  the  sun  in  his  successive  circuits  warned  you  how  fast  your 
days  were  fleeting  away  ;  the  bell  tolled  the  knell  of  those  around 
you,  to  warn  you  of  your  own  approaching  death  ;  and  God  and 
man,  earth  and  heaven,  laboured  together,  that  you  might  live. 
All  these  blessings  you  have  lost ;  and  for  the  loss  of  none  of 
them  can  you  give  an  account. 

Fourth.   What  is  now  your  condition  ? 

Search  your  souls,  and  see.  Determine  to  know  the  worst 
of  your  case.  This  is  the  first  step  towards  rendering  it  better. 
Probe  your  wounds  to  the  bottom  ;  lest  they  ulcerate  beyond  the 
hope  of  a  cure.  Inquire  solemnly  into  all  that  you  have  done, 
and  into  all  that  you  have  left  undone.  What  do  your  conscien- 
ces testify  ?  Can  they  say  of  you,  as  the  spirit  of  grace  said  of 
Paul,  "  Behold  he  prayeth."  Do  they  testify,  "  That  some  good 
thing  is  found  in  you  towards  the  Lord  God  of  Israel  ?"  Or  are 
you  yet  "  without  hope,  and  without  God  in  the  world  ?" 

Fifthly.   What  are  your  prospects  ? 

These  will  in  a  great  measure  depend  on  your  plans.  What 
are  those  plans  ?  Is  there  among  them  a  sober,  determined 
scheme  of  obtaining  salvation  ?  Is  the  time  fixed  on,  at  which 
you  will  begin  the  great  work  of  self-examination ;  at  which  you  in- 
tend to  ask,  "  What  you  must  do  to  be  saved  ?"  at  which  you  in- 
tend "  to  arise,  and  go  to  your  Heavenly  father,  and  say  to  him, 
'  Father,  I  have  sinned  against  Heaven,  and  before  thee  ;  and  am 
no  more  worthy  to  be  called  thy  son.' "  Have  you  began  to 
feel,  that  you  are  sinners  ;  ruined  by  your  apostacy,  condemned 
by  the  righteous  law  of  God,  and  advancing  daily  towards  the 


242  SERMON  ON  THE  OLD  YEAR.  [SER.  XVI, 

"  burnings  of  devouring  fire."  Are  you  fully  satisfied,  that 
"there  is  salvation  in  no  other,  but  Christ ;"  and  that  "  his  blood 
only  can  take  away  sin  V  Have  you  determined  to  quit  "  the 
broad  and  crooked  road,  which  leadeth  to  destruction  ;"  to  de- 
sert your  evil  companions,  your  dangerous  haunts,  and  your  still 
more  dangerous  practices  ?  Has  the  path  to  heaven,  strait  and 
difficult  as  it  is,  begun  to  seem  a  desirable  road  for  the  journey 
of  your  life  ?  Have  you  considered  the  glorious  world,  to  which 
it  leads,  and  to  which  it  is  the  only  way,  as  your  own  future,  eter- 
nal habitation  ;  and  determined,  as  an  earnest  of  your  arrival 
there,  speedily  to  renew  the  joy  of  angels  and  saints  over  your 
repentance  ?  Or  is  the  world  still  your  God,  your  portion,  and 
your  all. 

Sixthly.  What  will  be  the  end  of  your  life  ? 

At  'jr-  distant  period,  all  your  years  will  come  to  an  end. 
Your  "  feet  will  then  stumble  on  the  dark  mountains,"  and  your 
eyes  be  closed  in  the  iron  sleep.  Your  souls  will  then  leave  the 
bodies,  which  they  here  inhabited,  and  will  "  return  to  God  who 
gave  them,"  to  have  "every  work,  with  every  secret  thing, 
brought  into  judgment."  When  from  a  dying  bed  you  come  to 
take  a  retrospect  of  all  you  will  then  have  done,  suffered  and  en- 
joyed, in  this  world ;  what,  in  your  view,  will  probably  be  the 
amount?  Will  your  whole  life,  like  the  year  that  is  now  closing, 
appear  like  a  tale  that  is  told  ^  not  only  momentary,  but  vain  ; 
idle ;  a  mere  amusement ;  a  day,  in  which  you  have  fluttered 
and  sported  in  the  sunbeams,  to  no  useful  end ;  without  provi- 
ding for  a  peaceful  death,  a  comfortable  account,  or  a  happy 
eternity.  Will  it  then  appear,  that  the  means  of  grace  have  all 
been  squandered  by  you ;  and  that  the  day  of  salvation,  that  sweet 
and  accepted  time,  has  been  laughed,  slept,  and  smned  away  ? 
"  Oh  that  you  were  wise  ;  that  you  understood  these  things  ;  that 
you  would  consider  your  latter  end." 


SERMON  XVII. 

— o^o— 

A  SERMON  FOR  THE  NEW  YEAR. 

Preached  January,  1807. 

Jeremiah  xxviii.  16. 

Therefore  thus  saith  the  Lord,  "  Behold,  I  will  cast  thee  of 
from  the  face  of  the  earth  ;  this  year  thou  shalt  die,  because  thou 
hast  taught  rehellioii  against  the  Lord.''"' 

Hananiah,  the  son  of  Azur,  of  Gibeon,  a  prophet  of  a  false 
and  wicked  character,  in  the  days  of  Zedekiah,  king  of  Tudea, 
thought  proper  to  oppose  the  prophet  Jeremiah.  In  the  course 
of  this  opposition  he  denied  the  truth  of  his  predictions  ;  and 
declared,  that  God  had  revealed  to  him  the  disappointment  and 
overthrow  of  Nebuchadnezar,  the  ruin  of  his  expedition,  and  the 
liberation  of  the  Jews  from  his  yoke.  All  this  he  falsely  declar- 
ed. God  had  not  sent  him  ;  but  he  made  the  people  of  Jerusa- 
lem "  to  trust  in  a  lie."  In  consequence  of  this  evil  conduct, 
God  sent  to  him  the  prophet  Jeremiah  with  this  message  :  "Hear 
now,  Hananiah.  The  Lord  hath  not  sent  thee  ;  but  thou  makest 
this  people  to  trust  in  a  lie.  Therefore,  thus  saith  the  Lord,  be- 
hold, I  will  cast  thee  off  from  the  face  of  the  earth  :  this  year 
thou  shalt  die." 

There  is  something  peculiarly  solemn  and  affecting  in  this  re- 
markable prediction ;  and  I  cannot  help  believing,  that  it  may 
be  made  a  profitable  subject  of  our  contemplations.  To  bring 
death  near  to  us;  to  recall  our  own  personal  interest  in  this  migh- 
ty change,  the  close  of  oiiv  residence  in  the  present  world,  a/id 
the  means  of  our  mtroduction  into  another ;  the  termination  of 


"244  A  SERMON  [SER.  XVII. 

our  connection  with  the  body,  and  the  commencement  of  our 
separate  existence  ;  the  end  of  time,  and  the  opening  of  eterni- 
ty :  has  ever  been  a  duty  solemnly  urged  by  divines  and  moralists, 
and  is  plainly  and  powerfully  commanded  in  the  Scriotures.  The 
jndefiniteness  of  the  subject,  as  thus  enjoined,  is,  probably,  one 
great  reason,  why  the  injunction  has  so  little  influence.  Death 
is,  undoubtedly,  and  is  acknowledged  to  be,  near ;  and  we  as 
well  as  others  must  unquestionably  die.  But  our  death  may  be 
postponed  to  a  comparatively  late  period ;  and  ten,  twenty,  or 
fifty  years,  may  intervene.  Of  all  these  we  feel  in  the  main  se- 
cure. With  this  stock  before  hand,  we  feel  rich,  and  strong ; 
consider  ourselves  as  having  much  time  laid  up  in  store ;  and 
conclude,  that  we  may  safely,  if  not  lawfully  "  take  our  ease,  eat, 
drink,  and  be  merry."  Hence  the  solemn  warning,  which,  like 
a  knell,  tolls  the  signal  of  our  departure,  is  lost  in  deaf  ears ; 
and  the  pungent  reproof  loses  its  point  against  hearts,  shielded 
with  this  adamantine  defence. 

But  were  the  divine  able  to  come  to  us  in  the  name  of  the 
Lord  ;  and  to  tell  us,  with  the  dictates  of  Omniscience,  that  this 
year  we  should  die  ;  his  messages  would  undoubtedly  assume  a 
new  and  impressive  character,  and  claim  a  regard  hitherto  un- 
known. What  he  cannot  thus  do,  we  clearly  may  in  some  meas- 
ure do  for  ourselves.  We  cannot  determine,  indeed,  that  this  year 
will  end  our  present  life,  and  consign  us  to  the  tomb  ;  that  it  will 
finish  our  probation,  and  bring  us  to  the  judgment ;  but  we  can, 
with  no  uncommon  effort  of  thought,  suppose  these  events  cer- 
tainly to  happen,  during  this  period.  We  can  behold  ourselves 
laid  on  the  bed  of  sickness,  within  the  next  twelve  months  ;  clos- 
ing our  eyes  in  death  ;  separated  from  the  body ;  ascending  to 
the  bar  of  God  ;  giving  our  final  account ;  and  entering  upon 
the  "recompense  of  reward."  We  can  suppose  ourselves  sol- 
emnly warned  by  a  prophet  of  God,  as  was  Hananiah,  that  with- 
in the  year,  which  is  begun,  we  shall  die. 

Were  some  one  of  this  assembly  thus  certainly  to  be  informed 
by  an  undoubted  message  from  heaven,  that  this  was  his  own  fu- 
ture lot ;  what  would  be  his  views,  his  emotions,  his  pursuits,  du- 


SER.  XVII.J      ,  FOR  THE  NEW  YEAR.  245 

ling  the  little  period  before  him  ?  Such,  I  presume,  generally,  as 
the  following  observations  describe. 

1  St.   Worldly  objects  would  then  assume  a  totally  new  character. 

The  pleasures  of  the  world,  particularly,  would  lose  all  their 
charms. 

In  our  usual  circumstances  the  pleasures  of  this  world  engross 
a  large  share  of  our  attention.  To  almost  all  men  they  are  of 
much  importance ;  to  multitudes  they  are  the  only  important 
pleasures.  To  dress,  to  dance,  to  ride,  to  eat,  to  drink,  to  sport, 
to  indulge  themselves  in  gaming,  lewdness,  sloth,  splendour,  and 
gaiety ;  is  all  for  which  multitudes  live,  and  all  which  they  esteem 
worth  pursuing.  Mere  grasshoppers,  they  sing  and  sport  away 
the  summer  of  life  in  gay  and  jovial  amusement ;  and  when  the 
melancholy  and  fatal  winter  arrives,  have  provided  no  safe  re- 
treat, no  means  of  comfort  or  subsistence.  The  unheeded,  un- 
expected frost  descends  in  a  moment ;  and  they  perish  forever. 

But  on  the  arrival  of  this  awful  message,  how  changed  would 
be  the  feelings  of  him,  to  whom  it  was  addressed  !  Could  he  be 
engaged  by  the  idle  ornaments  of  dress,  who  within  a  few  days 
was  to  be  wrapped  in  a  winding  sheet  ?  Could  he  dance,  who 
was  walking  to  the  grave  ?  Could  he  pamper  his  body,  who  need- 
ed every  moment  to  feed  his  famishing  soul  with  "  the  bread  of 
life  ?"  Could  he  sport,  who  was  speedily  to  give  his  final  account 
"of  all  the  deeds,  done  in  the  body,"  before  "  the  Judge  of  the 
quick  and  the  dead  V  Could  he  game,  who  beheld  the  judgment 
set,  and  heard  the  dreadful  sentence,  "  Take  ye  the  unprofitable 
servant,  and  cast  him  into  outer  darkness,  where  shall  be  weep- 
ing, and  wailing,  and  gnashing  of  teeth,"  sounding  in  his  ears  ? 
Could  he  be  lewd,  who,  in  full  prospect,  saw  "  the  whore-mon- 
gers, and  fornicators,  of  this  world"  all  condemned  to  suffer,  and 
actually  suffering,  the  endless  wrath  of  God,  and  the  burnings  of 
devouring  fire  1 

Over  all  these  objects  would  in  his  eye  be  cast  a  drear  and 
funereal  aspect,  which  would  render  them  merely  sources  of  pain 
and  disgust.  They  would  appear,  not  only  as  trifles  lighter  than 
air,  about  which  a  rational  and  immortal  being  cannot,  without 

Vol.  II.  32 


246  A  SERMON  [SER.  XVII. 

gross  impropriety  and  perversion,  be  seriously  occupied  ;  but  as 
snares,  by  which  he  would  be  entangled  before  he  was  aware  : 
as  enchantments,  by  which,  if  he  yielded  to  them,  he  would  be 
charmed,  benumbed,  and  destroyed.  With  the  thought  of  yield- 
ing to  them  he  could  not  fail  to  associate  the  death  of  the  soul, 
and  the  miseries  of  damnation.  Of  course,  he  would  regard 
them  only  with  astonishment  and  horror. 

Nor  would  the  Business  of  this  world  be  much  less  changed  to 
his  eye. 

To  him,  who,  as  he  "  brought  nothing  into  this  world,  can  car- 
ry nothing  out  of  it,"  who  was  about  to  be  laid  in  the  solitary 
grave,  who  now  found  himself  to  be  in  real  good,  "  poor,  and 
miserable,  and  blind,  and  naked,  and  literally  in  want  of  all 
things  ;"  it  could  certainly  be  no  favourite  employment  to  watch, 
and  care,  and  toil,  that  he  might  lay  up  an  additional  heap  of 
dust,  however  shining,  and  however  coveted  by  others.  Should 
he  enlarge  his  breadth  of  land,  so  as  to  comprise  an  additional 
farm,  or  manor  ;  he  could  not  fail  to  remember  how  soon  six  feet 
of  earth  would  be  all  which  he  could  occupy. 

Nor  could  he  be  engaged  by  the  pursuits  of  ambition.  The 
breath  of  popularity,  could  have  no  fragrance  to  him  ;  the  trum- 
pet of  fame,  no  melody  ;  the  splendour  of  office,  no  charms  ;  the 
possession  of  power,  no  allurement ;  when  he  found  himself  the 
speedy  victim  of  death,  the  prey  of  worms,  and  the  feast  of  cor- 
ruption. He  might  labour  to  provide ;  but  it  would  be  the 
means  of  supporting,  and  adorning  his  soul.  He  might  be  ambi- 
tious, but  he  would  aim  at  "  the  honour,  which  cometh  from  God 
only."  He  might  covet  dominion  ;  but  it  would  be  the  dominion 
over  his  own  lusts,  temptations,  and  spiritual  enemies.  All  his 
ardent  pursuit  of  worldly  good  would  be  cold  and  icy ;  his  pride 
would  sink  into  the  dust ;  his  rivalry  expire  ;  and  the  stormy  pas- 
sions, which  made  his  mind  a  troubled  ocean,  would  have  spent 
their  force,  and  settle  into  a  calm,  sluggish  and  dead. 

A  stranger  ;  alone  ;  directing  his  course  onward  to  the  invisible 
world  ;  he  would  find  no  interest  in  the  bustle  of  this  :  and,  re- 
gardless of  the  turmoil  around  him,  or  regarding  it  only  with 


SER.  XVII.]  FOR  THE  NEW  YEAR.  247 

amazement  and  terror,  he  would  keep  his  own  eye  fixed  steadily 
on  the  solemn  scenes  before  him,  and  "  turn  not  aside  to  the  right 
hand,  nor  to  the  left." 

2dly.  Moral  and  Religions  subjects  would,  also,  in  the  eye  of 
such  a  man  be  invested  with  a  new  character. 

Among  the  things,  whioh  would  pecuharly  change  their  aspect 
in  his  view,  the  Scriptures  would  hold  a  prominent  place.  To 
men  on  a  dying  bed  the  Scriptures  often  assume  a  new  charac- 
ter. Probably  in  the  eye  of  most  men,  in  this  country,  they  ap- 
pear to  be  the  Word  of  God.  Few  at  least  discover  any  disposi- 
tion to  deny  their  divine  origin.  Still  they  regard  them  much  as 
Epicurus  regarded  his  gods ;  as  objects,  with  which  they  have 
Jittle  or  no  concern ;  good  enough  indeed  in  themselves,  but  of 
very  httle  consequence  to  them.  Accordingly  they  are  laid  up 
on  a  shelf,  or  secreted  in  a  book-case ;  and  are  brought  out  to 
view  only  on  rare  and  peculiar  occasions.  When  they  are  read, 
the  solemn  and  alarming,  the  bright  and  glorious  truths,  which 
they  contain,  are  read  as  idle  tales  ;  which  are  faintly  believed, 
and  scarcely  regarded. 

But  in  the  eye  of  this  candidate  for  eternity,  the  Scriptures 
would  become,  as  to  men  on  a  dying  bed,  the  real  Word  of  God  ; 
containing  his  holy  will  concerning  our  duty  and  worship,  and 
the  news  and  the  means  of  everlasting  life.  In  them  he  could 
not  fail  to  discern,  that  God  spoke,  and  spoke  to  him.  His  voice 
would  be  invested  with  a  majesty,  awfulness,  and  authority,  re- 
sembling that  with  which  he  spoke  from  Mount  Sinai ;  and  that, 
with  which  he  will  speak  at  the  final  day.  Every  thing,  which  is 
said  in  them,  would  be  regarded  as  real,  and  certain  ;  would  be 
felt  as  addressed  to  himself;  as  describing  his  own  case;  as  un- 
folding his  own  guilt,  dangers  and  necessities ;  and  as  pointing 
out  hope,  relief,  and  safety,  indispensable  to  him.  Every  doc- 
trine would  be  acknowledged  to  enlighten ;  every  ordinance  to 
direct ;  and  every  precept  to  bind,  with  a  sanction  infinite.  Eve- 
ry threatening,  seen  to  convey  the  certain,  future  destiny  of  all 
those  who  came  within  its  reach ;  would  alarm,  and  amuse. 
Every  promise,  seen,  with  the  like  certainty,  to  assure  to  all,  who 


248  A  SERMON  [SER.  XVII. 

embraced  it,  peace,  and  light,  and  hope,  the  favour  of  God,  and 
the  inheritance  of  immortal  life ;  would  invite,  encourage  and 
strengthen.  In  a  word,  while  searching  the  sacred  volume  he 
Avould  seem  to  stand  before  the  Shechinah  ;  to  present  his  enqui- 
ries in  the  holy  place,  and  to  hear  from  behind  the  cloud  of  glory 
the  answer  of  Jehovah,  concerning  sin  and  holiness,  life  and 
death,  judgment  and  eternity,  heaven  and  hell. 

Among  the  themes,  which  would  most  affect  his  soul  in  this 
interesting  condition,  his  own  guilt  and  ruin,  as  disclosed  in  the 
Scriptures,  would  hold  an  eminent  place.  There,  as  in  a  clear, 
undeceiving  mirror,  he  would  see  himself  a  sinner,  originally  de- 
praved ;  daily  corrupted  by  the  indulgence  of  passion  and  appe- 
tite, "  the  lust  of  the  flesh,  the  lust  of  the  eyes,  and  the  pride  of 
life,"  obedience  to  temptation,  and  the  imitation  of  pernicious 
example ;  possessing  a  ''  heart,  deceitful  above  all  things,  and 
desperately  wicked ;"  reproved,  warned,  allured,  and  entreated, 
day  by  day ;  yet  day  by  day  "  hardening  his  neck,"  and  thus  de- 
serving to  "  be  suddenly  destroyed,  and  that  without  remedy." 
There  he  would  discover,  with  a  clearness  next  to  intuitive,  that 
in  himself,  his  labours,  his  prayers,  his  efforts,  considered  by 
themselves,  there  was  neither  recovery,  nor  hope  ;  that,  however 
sedulously,  or  confidently,  he  "  kindled  the  fire"  of  self-righteous- 
ness, "  and  compassed  himself  with  its  sparks ;"  and  however 
comfortably  he  "walked  in  the  light  of"  that  fire,  still  "his  por- 
tion" from  the  hand  "  of  God"  must  be  "  to  lie  down  in  sorrow." 

From  this  melancholy  and  benumbing  prospect  would  he  not 
instinctively  turn  his  eye,  to  find  relief  from  his  distresses  ?  On 
the  same  sacred  page  he  would  find  a  Saviour,  portrayed  by  an 
Infinite  hand,  in  colours  of  immortal  beauty  and  splendour  :  a 
Saviour  of  his  own  hneage  and  kindred  ;  "  meek  and  lowly  of 
heart ;  a  man  of  sorrows,  and  acquainted  with  grief;  despised 
and  rejected  of  men  ;"  living  in  poverty,  and  persecution ;  and 
dying  with  disgrace  and  agony :  yet  a  Saviour  divinely  wise,  and 
great,  and  good :  in  the  one  character  proving  himself  capa- 
ble of  condescending  to  his  own  lowly  state,  pitying  his  distress- 
es, and  expiating  his  guilt ;  in  the  other,  of  forgiving  his  sins. 


SER.  XVII.J  FOR  THE  NEW  YEAR.  <249 

renewing  his  soul,  enabling  him  to  triumph  over  death  and  the 
grave,  and  conferring  on  him  endless  life  and  glory.  To  this  di- 
vine person,  who  died,  that  he  might  live,  who  rose  again  from 
the  dead,  that  he  might  obtain  the  resurrection  of  life  ;  who  as- 
cended to  heaven,  as  the  forerunner  of  all  his  followers  "that 
he  might  prepare  a  place  for  them"  in  the  ''  mansions"  of  his 
"  Father's  house  ;"  would  he  not  come,  "  labouring  and  heavy 
laden"  to  "  find  rest"  for  his  soul  1  Would  he  not  willingly  "take" 
his  "yoke  upon  him  ?"  Would  he  not  cheerfully  assume  his  "  bur- 
den" ?  Would  he  not  think  "  the  yoke  easy?"  Would  he  not 
find  the  "burden  light?"  Must  not  the  tidings,  that  "a  Saviour 
is  born  in  the  city  of  David,"  be  now  to  him  "  tidings  of  great 
joy  ?"  Must  he  not  join  with  the  Angels  in  ascribing  "  Glory  to 
God  in  the  highest,  that  peace"  was  proclaimed  "  on  earth,  and 
good  will  towards  men  ?" 

With  what  reverence,  with  what  amazement,  would  he  hear 
the  Creator  of  the  heavens,  and  the  earth,  proclaiming  himself 
"  the  Lord,  the  Lord  God,  merciful  and  gracious  ;  long  suffering  ; 
slow  to  anger ;  abundant  in  goodness,  and  truth  ;  forgiving  ini- 
quity, transgression,  and  sin ;  and  that  will  by  no  means  clear 
the"  impenitently  "  guilty  !"  How  would  he  tremble  with  aston- 
ishment and  delight,  when  he  read,  "  Thus  saith  the  high  and 
lofty  One,  that  inhabiteth  eternity,  '  I  dwell  in  the  high  and  holy 
place  ;  with  him  also,  that  is  of  a  contrite  and  humble  spirit ;  to 
revive  the  spirit  of  the  humble,  and  to  revive  the  heart  of  the 
contrite.  For  I  will  not  contend  forever ;  neither  will  I  be  always 
wroth ;  lest  the  spirit  should  fail  before  me,  and  the  souls  which 
I  have  made.' " 

With  what  joy  would  he  hear  the  Evangelical  messenger  pro- 
claim, that  "  God  is  in  Christ,  reconciling  the  world  unto  himself; 
not  imputing  their  trespasses  unto  them  ?"  and  another  divinely 
commissioned  herald  following  after  him,  and  announcing  the 
sum  of  infinite  excellence,  in  the  single  and  endearing  word, 
"  God  is  love  ?"  Could  he  fail  to  give  up  himself  to  this  God,  as 
a  penitent,  returning  child  ;  and  to  choose  him  as  his  "  father  and 
everlasting  friend." 


250  A  SERMON  [SER.  XVII. 

The  Sabbath.,  also,  neglected  perhaps,  and  forgotten,  or  wan- 
tonly violated,  profaned,  and  spent  in  idleness,  sleep,  business, 
and  sin  ;  would  now  claim  a  high  importance,  a  heavenly  distmc- 
tion.  "  This  is  the  day,"  would  he  naturally  exclaim,  "  which  the 
Lord  hath  made.  I  will  rejoice  and  be  glad  in  it ;  1  will  take  the 
cup  of  salvation,  and  pay  my  vows.  To  day,"  let  me  "  not  har- 
den my  heart,  lest  I  perish,"  as  those,  "  whose  carcases  fell  in  the 
wilderness.  Behold,  now  is  the  accepted  time  !  Behold,  now  is 
the  day  of  salvation  !"  Let  me  now  "  do  what  my  hand  findeth 
to  do,  with  my  might ;  for  there  is  no  work,  device,  knowledge, 
nor  wisdom,  in  the  grave,  whither  I  go." 

What  would  keep  this  man  from  the  house  of  God  ?  Would  he 
suffer  an  ordinary  dress,  a  slight  indisposition,  a  cold  or  showery 
day,  to  stand  between  him  and  heaven  ?  What  would  wnhdraw 
his  mind  from  the  solemn  service  of  the  sanctuary  ?  Would  his 
heart  wander  after  his  covetousness,  or  his  pleasures  ?  Would  he 
complain  of  the  style,  or  the  utterance,  of  the  preacher  ?  Would 
he  turn  away  his  ear  from  the  message  of  God,  the  warning  of 
destruction,  the  voice  of  pardon,  or  the  promise  of  hfe  ;  because 
it  was  announced  by  a  plain  man,  and  in  an  ungraceful  manner  ? 
When  the  messenger  of  Christ  came  to  him,  with  the  tidings  of 
peace,  reconciliation,  the  resurrection  of  life,  and  eternal  glory ; 
would  he  find  leisure,  or  inclination,  to  scrutinize  his  dress,  his 
air,  and  his  accomplishments  ?  Would  he  not,  on  the  contrary, 
forgetful  of  all  things  else,  look  to  the  mercy-seat ;  to  behold  a 
dying  and  risen  Saviour,  and  an  efficacious  atonement ;  and  to 
hear  the  sound  of  forgiven  sin,  and  the  voice  of  an  approving 
God  ?  Would  he  not  cry  out,  "  How  amiable  are  thy  taberna- 
cles, O  Lord  of  hosts  !  My  heart  and  my  flesh  cryeth  out  for  the 
living  God.  Blessed  are  they  that  dwell  in  thy  house.  Behold, 
O  God,  our  shield,  and  look  upon  the  face  of  thine  anointed.  A 
day,  spant  in  thy  courts,  is  better  than  a  thousand  :  I  would  rather 
be  a  door-keeper  in  the  house  of  God,  than  dwell  in  the  tents  of 
wickedness.  The  Lord  God  is  a  sun,  and  shield.  The  Lord  will 
give  grace  and  glory :  no  good  thing  will  he  withhold  from  them 
that  walk  uprightly.  O  Lord  of  Hosts,  blessed  is  the  man,  that 
irusteth  in  thee  ! " 


SER.  XVII.]  FOR  THE  NEW  YEAR.  25 1 

Christians^  also,  before  objects  of  neglect,  perhaps  of  con- 
tempt, and  derision,  pitied  as  weak  and  credulous,  and  despised 
as  destitute  of  sense  and  spirit,  would  now  become  possessed  of 
an  importance  wholly  new.  To  "  walk  with  wise  men,"  he  would 
learn  from  God  himself,  was  the  way  to  become  wise.  As  com- 
panions, as  friends,  as  instructors,  as  examples,  he  would  seek 
their  aid,  countenance,  and  direction.  To  them  would  he,  of 
course,  unbosom  all  his  sins,  and  fears,  and  sorrows.  From  them 
would  he  seek  and  find  direction  concerning  the  path,  in  which 
he  wished  to  walk ;  companions,  to  cheer  and  encourage  his 
journey  ;  and  motives,  to  persevere  to  the  end.  By  them  would 
he  find  his  sorrows  soothed,  his  fears  allayed,  and  his  hopes  bright- 
ened ;  and  in  them  would  he  find  that  tenderness,  that  evangeli- 
cal sympathy,  which  "  weeps  with  such  as  weep,  and  rejoices 
with  such  as  rejoice,"  blending  itself  with  all  his  interests,  and 
mingling  tears,  and  smiles  and  joys,  with  his. 

These  men  also  he  would  consider  as  the  only  rational  inhabi- 
tants of  the  present  world.  He  would  see  and  acknowledge,  that 
they,  and  they  only,  had  lived  to  good  purpose ;  had  fulfilled  the 
end  of  their  being  ;  had  secured  themselves  from  disappointment, 
shame,  and  ruin,  in  the  future  world,  and  "  laid  up  in  store  a  good 
foundation  for  the  time  to  come."  Hence  in  his  eye  they  would 
claim  a  total  superiority  over  all  others  ;  and  would  be  regarded 
with  a  respect  and  estimation  totally  singular. 

Wicked  meri^  on  the  contrary,  however  regarded  by  him  during 
his  former  life,  would  appear  of  necessity  as  fools  and  madmen. 
All  their  boasted  sagacity  and  worldly  wisdom  would  in  his  view 
be  nothing  but  specious  distraction  ;  all  their  bustle  about  wealth, 
fame,  office,  power,  splendour,  and  sensuality,  would  appear  like 
the  scrambles  of  bedlam.  "  What  profit,"  would  he  exclaim, 
"  is  there  in  the  things,  of  which"  these  miserable  wretches  must 
one  day  "  be  ashamed  ?  for  the  end  of"  all  "  these  things,"  as 
pursued  by  them,  "  is  death."  Of  course  their  arguments,  al- 
lurements, example,  and  authority,  would  all  vanish  ;  and  them- 
selves, and  their  works,  pursuits,  and  enjoyments,  would  be  writ- 
ten down  by  him  "vanity  and  vexation  of  spirit."     Nor  would 


252  A  SERMON  [SER.  XVIL 

their  numbers  at  all  increase  their  weight  or  their  influence.  He 
would  naturally  remember,  that  "  the  way"  of  destruction  "  is 
broad,"  as  well  as  "  crooked,  and  multitudes  have  ever  gone  in 
thereat :"  and  he  would  infinitely  rather  rest  peacefully  and  safely 
in  the  ark,  with  the  little  family  of  Noah,  while  "  the  windows  of 
heaven  were  opened,  and  the  fountains  of  the  great  deep  were 
broken  up  ;"  than  to  perish  in  the  general  ruin  of  a  world,  with 
all  its  millions  of  inhabitants. 

In  the  mean  time,  with  what  feelings  would  he  regard  Eterni- 
ty ?  How  solemnly  would  he  fix  his  eyes  on  a  dying  bed ;  and 
mark  the  king  of  terrors  in  his  still  and  awful  approach  to  sum- 
mon him  away  ?  With  what  emotions  would  he  cast  his  view 
forward  beyond  the  grave,  and  see  the  Judge  ascending  the  last 
tribunal ;  the  judgment  in  a  sense  begun  ;  the  books  opened  ; 
and  himself  called  to  a  final  "account  of  all  the  deeds  done  in 
the  body?"  Still  beyond,  would  rise  in  amazing  prospect  the 
boundless  ocean,  upon  the  shore  of  which  he  would  feel  that  he 
was  now  standing,  ready  to  launch  on  its  unfathomable  waters, 
bound  on  a  voyage  of  endless  duration,  and  of  importance,  which 
cannot  be  measured.  In  eternity  all  his  concerns  would  lie. 
Time  to  him  would  soon  be  no  more.  Its  last  suns  would  be 
rolling  through  the  heavens  ;  and  its  evening  would  be  preparing 
to  finish  the  little  day  of  hfe.  With  time  he  would  feel  but  one 
concern ;  and  that  would  be  to  employ  its  remaining  hours  in 
diligent  preparation  for  eternity. 

With  such  views,  what  would  be  his  conduct.^  His  closet 
would  summon  him,  with  Daniel,  "  three  times  a  day  to  bow  his 
knees  before  the  Father  of  all  mercies,"  to  confess  his  sins  ;  ac- 
knowledge the  divine  goodness  to  him  ;  and  ask  humbly  for  the 
forgiveness  of  his  sins,  and  the  salvation  of  his  soul.  Witli  the 
Bereans,  he  would  "  search  the  Scriptures"  daily  for  "  the  words 
of  eternal  life."  With  David,  he  would  be  glad  when  they 
said  unto  him,  "  Come,  let  us  go  up  to  the  house  of  the  Lord." 

In  all  his  concerns  with  his  fellow  men,  he  would  labour  "  to 
do  justly,  and  to  shew  mercy ;"  and  in  all  his  concerns  with  God, 
to  "  walk  humbly  before  him." 


SER.  XVII.]  FOR  THE  NEW  YEAR.  253 

In  a  word,  he  would  strive  to  become  a  reasonable  being,  to 
act  as  an  intelligent  creature ;  an  heir  of  eternity  ;  a  candidate 
for  life  everlasting. 

I  say,  he  would  thus  act.  By  this  I  mean,  however,  that,  if 
he  were  not  a  sot,  a  fool,  a  madman,  such  would  be  his  conduct. 
That  such  it  ought  to  be  will,  I  presume  be  acknowledged  by  all 
who  hear  me. 

But,  if  this  would  be,  and  ought  to  be,  the  conduct  of  a  man 
solemnly  warned  by  God,  that  within  a  year  he  should  die ;  let 
us  examine  our  own  situation,  and  see  how  far  our  conduct  ought 
to  resemble  his.  If  the  resemblance  be  great  and  essential,  and 
the  difference  trifling  and  insignificant ;  then  it  will  follow,  that 
what  would  be  his  duty  and  wisdom,  must  be  ours. 

We  are  not,  indeed,  thus  solemnly  and  directly  admonished 
of  the  time  of  our  departure  by  the  voice  of  a  Prophet :  but  we 
are  taught  with  irresistible  certainty,  by  the  Word  and  Provi- 
dence of  God,  that  within  this  year  we  may,  not  improbably, 
die ;  and  that  within  a  little  period  we  shall  certainly  die.  Of 
the  four  hundred  mortal  beings,  who  are  now  before  me,  several 
will  in  all  probability  go  to  the  grave,  and  to  the  judgment,  be- 
fore another  sun  shall  have  rounded  the  year.  How  many  we 
know  not:  who  they  will  be,  we  know  not.  The  uncertainty 
concerning  each  should  make  each  feel,  that  the  case  may  be  his 
own.  No  one  is  probably  more  interested  in  this  affecting  sub- 
ject than  the  preacher  himself.  It  becomes  me,  therefore  ;  it  be- 
comes every  one  of  those  who  hear  me  ;  to  bring  the  case  home, 
to  ourselves  ;  to  lay  strong  hold  on  all  the  consequences  ;  and 
"  so  to  number  our  days  that  we  may  apply  our  hearts  unto 
wisdom," 

The  first  great  question,  here  to  be  asked,  is.  Are  we  ready  to 
die  ?  This  is  to  be  answered  by  asking  again.  Is  our  peace  made 
■with  God  ?  Are  our  sins  forgiven  ?  Are  our  souls  interested  in  the 
merits  of  Christ?  Have  we  embraced  him  with  the  faith  of  the 
Gospel  ?  Have  we  repented  of  our  sins  ;  Have  we  turned  to  God 
with  all  the  heart  ?  If  we  can  answer  these  questions  in  the  af- 

VoT..  II.  33 


254  A  SERMOiN  [SKR-  XVII. 

firmative,  it  will  be  well  with  us ;  and  we  have  already  secured 
the  great  end  of  our  being. 

But  if  not,  what  ought  to  be  our  conduct  ?  Can  we  look  at 
this  subject ;  can  we  ponder  death  and  the  grave,  judgment,  and 
eternity,  heaven  and  hell ;  with  coldness  and  indifference  ?  Have 
you  ever  thought  what  it  is  to  die  ;  to  appear  before  God;  alone, 
unemhodied  ;  to  be  tried,  and  judged,  and  sentenced,  and  "-  re- 
warded, according  to  your  works  ?"  Have  you  considered  the 
suspended  state  of  an  immortal  mind ;  the  exposure  of  eternal 
interests  to  final  ruin ;  the  immense  hazard  of  a  cold  and  stupid, 
a  worldly  and  guilty,  probationer  for  eternal  hfe  and  death?  Have 
you  weighed,  have  you  reckoned  up,  what  it  is  to  lose  heaven, 
and  to  be  sent  down  to  hell?  Arc  you  prepared  to  enter  eternity 
with  all  your  sins  on  your  heads  ?  Can  you  flee  from  the  presence, 
the  power,  and  the  hand,  of  God  ?  Can  you  evade  the  search  of 
his  all-seeing  eye  ?  Can  you  "  abide  in  the  day  of  his  anger,  and 
stand  in  the  time  of  his  indignation  ?"  When  is  your  preparation 
to  shun  the  dangers  before  you,  to  escape  from  a  guilty,  rebell- 
ious character,  a  fearful  condemnation,  and  final  perdition,  to 
begin  ?  Have  you  resolved  on  the  time  ?  Is  it  at  hand  ?  If  it  is  ' 
"  go  on  and  prosper  ;"  and  may  "  the  Lord  lift  upon  you  the 
light  of  his  countenance,  and  be  gracious  to  you  !" 

If  not ;  let  me  propose  to  you  a  time  for  this  solemn  purpose. 
You  have  just  ended  a  year,  which  God  has  given  to  you,  that 
you  might  obtain  salvation.  You  arc  commencing  through  his 
mercy  and  long  suffering  a  new  year,  allotted,  so  far  as  you  will 
be  permitted  to  enjoy  it,  for  the  same  end.  All  your  preceding 
years  are  lost ;  not  gone  merely,  but  wasted  with  a  dangerous 
and  fatal  prodigality.  It  is  time,  that  you  began  to  husband 
your  day  of  grace,  and  to  save  the  remainder  of  the  accepted 
time. 

This  day  let  God  be  a  witness  of  your  first  determination  to 
renounce  iniquity,  and  turn  to  him  ;  to  repent  of  your  sins  ;  to 
beheve  on  the  Lord  Jesiis  Christ,  and  to  yield  yourselves  to  him 
as  a  faithf'^l  and  free-will  offering.  Let  this  new  year  bring  you 
to  a  new,  humble,  obedient,  and  spiritual  life.     Let  your  "■  old 


SER.  XVII.]  FOR  THE  NEW  YEAR.  255 

man"  be  "  put  away  with  his  deeds,  Avhich  are  corrupt,  and  put 
on  the  new  man,  which,  after  God,  is  created  in  righteousness 
and  true  hohness." 

Remember,  that  you  are  creatures  of  God ;  dependent  on  his 
bounty  for  Hfe,  and  all  its  blessings  and  hopes ;  that  he  is  now 
waiting  on  you  to  be  gracious,  and  to  save  your  souls  alive  ;  and 
that  he  "  has  no  pleasure  in  the  death  of  the  sinner,  but  would 
rather  that  he  would  return,  and  repent,  and  live." 

This  day  has  he  been  present  in  this  house ;  he  is  now  present, 
with  opened  arms,  to  receive  and  bless  you.  Will  you  not  meet 
him,  and  receive  his  blessing  ? 

Feel,  I  beseech  you,  that  you  are  dying  creatures.  Feel,  that 
the  message  in  the  text,  may  truly  be  directed  to  you.  To  some 
or  other  of  you  it  will  in  all  probability  be  directed.  Act  then, 
as  you  would  act,  if  the  voice  of  the  prophet  were  still  sounding 
in  your  ears ;  "  This  year  thou  shalt  die."  All  that  would  be 
proper  for  the  man  whose  case  I  have  proposed,  must,  essentially, 
be  proper  for  you.  You,  like  him,  stand  upon  the  brink  of  the 
grave,  on  the  border  of  eternity.  You,  like  him,  are  hastening  to 
the  judgment,  to  the  recompense  of  reward.  Your  hfe  is,  like  his, 
"  a  vapour,  which  appeareth  for  a  little  time,  and  then  vanisheth 
away."  The  remaining  days  and  hours  ought,  therefore,  to  be 
anxiously  employed  in  preparing  for  these  amazing  events.  The 
world  ought  to  lose  its  hold  on  you,  as  on  him.  Its  business,  its 
honours,  its  pleasures,  ought  to  have  no  place  in  your  hearts ; 
except  as  your  duty  is  concerned.  Your  whole  business  here  is 
plainly  to  prepare  for  hereafter.  Nothing  here  ought  to  stand 
between  you  and  your  duty  ;  between  you  and  your  God.  Shall 
time  prevent  you  from  acquiring  the  blessings  of  eternity  ?  Shall 
earth  withdraw  you  from  heaven  ?  You  have  the  Gospel  in  your 
hands ;  you  enjoy  the  sabbath  4  you  frequent  the  sanctuary.  All 
things  are  "  given  to  you  richly  to  enjoy."  Every  means  of 
grace,  every  hope  of  salvation,  is  placed  freely  and  bountifully  in 
your  hands.  You  hear  the  calls  of  mercy ;  the  invitations  to  faith, 
repentance,  and  hohness,  the  proffers  of  endless  life  and  glory. 
The  Saviour  cries  to  you,  "  Come  unto  me  all  ye  that  labour  and 


256  A  SERMON  [SER.  XVII. 

are  heavy  laden,  and  1  will  give  you  rest."  He  is  evidently  set 
before  you,  crucified  for  your  sins.  He  entreats  you  daily  to  be 
reconciled  to  God ;  and  points  to  his  own  wounds,  and  to  his 
flowing  blood,  with  infinite  compassion,  to  compel  you  by  motives 
irresistible.  Why  will  you  not  comply  'I  Should  an  enemy,  mali- 
cious, sagacious,  and  implacable  beyond  example,  and  fraught 
with  the  spirit  of  a  fiend,  contrive  to  lull  you  into  security,  allure 
you  to  sin,  harden  your  hearts,  and  blind  your  minds,  in  such  a 
manner  as  to  ruin  your  souls,  and  lead  you  to  final  perdition ; 
what  would  be  your  views  concerning  the  character  of  such  a  be- 
ing, when  you  came  to  the  miseries  of  damnation  ?  Would  you 
not  think  eternity  too  short  to  vent  all  your  resentment  against 
the  murderer  of  your  souls '(  What  other  part  are  you  now  act- 
ing ?  Every  sin  which  you  commit,  every  season  of  grace  which 
you  lose,  every  warning  which  you  cast  away,  is  a  proof,  that  you 
are  suicides  ;  suicides  of  your  souls  ;  destroyers  of  immortal  life. 
What  sentence  ought  you  then  to  pass  on  your  conduct ;  on  your- 
selves? Awake  from  this  sleep  of  stupidity,  sottishness,  and  death. 
Resume  your  reason.  Pteturn  to  your  God  ;  to  repentance,  faith, 
and  hope,  to  holiness  and  heaven.  Retire  to  your  closets,  shut 
your  doors,  and  "  pray  to  your  father  which  is  in  secret."  Let 
heaven,  for  the  first  time,  hear  a  fervent,  honest  prayer  ascend 
for  the  forgiveness  of  your  sins.  Give  to  good  men  here,  and  to 
angels  there,  a  hope,  that  their  joy  shall  be  renewed  over  your 
repentance.  Let  God  be  able  to  say  concerning  each  of  you, 
"  Behold  he  prayeth." 

Betake  yourselves  to  the  Word  of  life.  Search  the  Scriptures. 
Ponder  the  descriptions  of  your  character ;  the  threatenings 
against  your  sins  ;  the  invitations  to  repentance  and  reformation ; 
the  infinite  love  of  the  Saviour ;  the  abounding  compassion  of 
God  ;  the  glorious  mission  of  the  spirit  of  grace  ;  and  the  bright 
and  luminous  hopes  of  immortal  life.  Think  what  you  will  be, 
if  impenitent ;  what  you  may  be,  if  you  please  ;  aiid  what  you 
will  be  if  you  repent.  Weigh  endless  life  with  the  loss  of  the 
pleasures  of  sin,  and  endless  death  with  the  enjoyment  of  those 
pleasures ;  and  carefully  cast  up  the  difference.     Think  how  you 


SER.  XVII.]  FOR  THE  NEW  YEAR.  257 

would  feel,  if  a  messenger  from  heaven  were  to  announce  to  you 
your  certain  and  final  damnation  ;  and  then  call  to  mind,  that 
you  are  daily  announcing  this  tremendous  allotment,  by  your 
own  continuance  in  sin.  Lo  !  life  and  death  are  set  before  you. 
"  Choose  you,  therefore,  this  day,  whom  you  will  serve ;''''  God 
or  the  World.  Choose  whether  you  will  go  down  to  perdition, 
or  ascend  to  everlasting  life :  and  may  Infinite  Mercy  enable 
you  to  make  a  choice,  in  which  you  will  find  peace  and  consola- 
tion throughout  eternity.     Amen. 


SERMON  XVIII. 

A  SERMON  FOR  THE  NEW  YEAR. 
Preached  January,  1809. 

Luke  xiii.  6 — 9. 

He  spake  also  this  parable.  "  A  certain  man  had  a  fig-tree, 
planted  in  his  vineyard :  and  he  came,  and  sought  fruit  thereon, 
and  found  none.  Then  said  he  unto  the  dresser  of  his  vineyard, 
Behold,  these  three  years  I  come,  seeking  fruit  on  this  fig-tree, 
and  find  none :  cut  it  down  ;  why  cumhereth  it  the  ground  ?  And 
he,  answering,  said  unto  him.  Lord,  let  it  alone  this  year  also,  till 
I  shall  dig  about  it,  and  dung  it :  And  if  it  bear  fruit,  well ;  and 
if  not,  then  after  that  thou  shalt  cut  it  down.'''' 

This  parable  seems  to  have  been  addressed  originally  to  the 
Jews.  They  had  been  long  a  peculiar  object  of  divine  cultiva- 
tion ;  and  at  the  time,  when  the  parable  was  delivered,  were 
eminently  unfruitful.  A  sentence  of  excision  was  gone  out 
against  them  ;  but  was  stayed  in  its  execution  by  the  heavenly 
Vine  Dresser  :  by  Him,  who  said,  "  O  Jerusalem,  Jerusalem,  that 
killest  the  prophets,  and  stonest  them  that  are  sent  unto  thee !" 
by  Him,  who  wept  over  the  future  miseries  of  this  devoted  na- 
tion, at  the  very  time  when  they  were  preparing  to  imbrue  their 
hands  in  his  blood.  Accordingly,  God  waited  upon  them  to  be 
gracious  ;  and  came  many  years,  seeking  fruit,  and  finding  none. 
At  length,  however,  he  destroyed  them  with  a  terrible  destruc- 
tion by  the  Roman  armies,  under  the  command  of  Titus.  From 
the  date  of  this  fact,  they  have  been  dispersed  among  all  the  na- 
tions of  men  ;  cast  out  of  the  Church ;  and  given  up  to  hard- 
ness of  heart. 


SER.  XVIII.]  A  SERMON  FOR  THE  NEW  YEAR.  259 

But,  although  this  parable  has  a  primary  reference  to  the 
Jews,  it  is  plainly  intended  to  have  a  reference  much  more  ex- 
tensive, and  therefore  much  more  important.  It  was  spoken  for 
their  admonition  :  it  was  written  for  ours.  It  was  originally  ad- 
dressed to  the  Jews.  Through  the  Gospel  it  has  ever  since  been 
addressed  to  Christians.  Every  person,  who  lives  under  the  Gos- 
pel, is  here  exhibited  as  a  tree,  planted  by  the  hand  of  God  in  a 
vineyard,  in  a  soil,  and  in  circumstances,  naturally  rendering  it 
fruitful ;  as  cultivated  with  attentive  care  ;  and  as  reasonably  ex- 
pected to  bring  forth  fruit.  The  fruit  expected,  also,  is  figs  ; 
pleasant,  healthful,  and  useful.  Of  these  trees,  however,  some 
are  represented  as  being,  notwithstanding  all  these  advantages, 
absolutely  barren  ;  and  as  thus  disappointing,  repeatedly,  the  ex- 
pectations formed  by  the  Owner  of  the  Vineyard.  After  wait- 
ing long,  and  looking  frequently,  to  find  fruit  on  them,  he  pro- 
nounces them  to  be  not  only  useless,  but  nuisances  ;  and  directs 
them  to  be  cut  down,  and  cast  out  of  the  Vineyard,  as  mere 
"  cumberers  of  the  ground."  The  Vine  Dresser,  however,  soli- 
cits for  them  a  little  longer  respite,  in  order  to  bestow  on  them  a 
greater  measure  of  care  and  cultivation  :  but  if,  with  these  pecul- 
iar advantages,  they  should  still  continue  barren ;  even  he  con- 
sents, that  they  should  be  destroyed.  The  following  doctrines 
are  therefore,  I  think  evidently,  contained  in  the  Text. 

1st.  Mankind,  under  the  Gospel,  are  placed  by  God  in  air- 
cmnstances,  pecidmrly  fitted  to  make  them  fruitful  in  righteous- 
ness. 

Fig-trees,  planted  in  a  rich  soil,  and  carefully  cultivated,  will 
yield  fruit,  if  they  will  yield  it  at  all. 

2dly.  When  God  has  waited  a  reasonable  time,  and  finds 
them  barren,  and  useless,  in  the  world,  he  determines  to  destroy 
them. 

"  Behold  these  three  years  I  come,  seeking  fruit  on  this  fig-tree, 
and  find  none  :  cut  it  down  :  why  cumbereth  it  the  ground  ?" 

Three  years  are  certainly  a  sufficient  period  to  determine 
Avhether  a  tree,  of  mature  growth,  will  yield  fruit,  or  not.     By 


■2G0  A'SERMON  [SER.  XVIII 

this  period  we  are  plainly  taught,  that  the  time,  during  which 
God  waits  upon  sinners,  is  a  sutiicient  one  to  decide  this  point. 

3dly.  By  the  intercession  of  his  servants  the  patience  of  God 
towards  sinners  is  prolonged^  until  there  is  no  more  hope  concern- 
ing them. 

"And  he,  answering,  said  unto  him,  '  Lord,  let  it  alone  this 
year  also,  till  I  sliall  dig  about  it,  and  dung  it  :  and,  if  it  bear 
fruit,  well  ;  and,  if  not,  then  after  that  thou  shalt  cut  it  down.' " 

4th]y.  The  means  of  Divine  cultivation  furnish  important  hope 
for  sinners. 

Otherwise  the  observations  in  the  two  last  quoted  verses  would 
have  no  meaning. 

That  all  these  Doctrines  are  contained  in  the  text,  as  well  as 
that  they  are  all  true,  is  so  obvious,  that  eftbrts  to  render  them 
more  so  would  be  made  to  no  purpose.  My  proper  business, 
therefore,  will  be  to  make  a  direct  application  of  them  to  this 
Assembly. 

1st.  This  Cotigregation  consists  of  those,  who  have  been  bom, 
and  educated,  under  all  the  privileges  of  the  Gospel. 

All  those,  who  are  before  me,  have  been  born  in  a  Christian 
land.  From  the  morning  of  Life,  you  have  all  received  a  reli- 
gious education.  You  have  been  taught  to  read  from  the  begin- 
ning ;  and  thus  have  enjoyed  the  privilege  of  an  open,  and  daily, 
access  to  the  Bible,  for  divine  knowledge.  The  venerable  and 
affecting  instructions  of  parents  have  been  given  you,  from  the 
time,  when  you  were  first  able  to  receive  them.  From  the  same 
period,  you  have  had  the  privilege  of  beholding  the  life  and  con- 
versation of  good  men  ;  and  have  daily  seen  them  in  a  manner 
too  evident,  and  too  unexceptionable,  to  be  questioned,  "  adorn 
the  doctrine  of  God,  their  Saviour,"  The  Sabbath,  peculiarly 
the  day  of  grace,  eminently  the  accepted  time ;  the  divine  sea- 
son, in  which  all  good  things  descend  upon  this  unhappy  world  ; 
has  been  made  known  to  you  in  the  amplest  manner  ;  and  re- 
turned, weekly,  to  shower  its  blessings  upon  your  heads.  Week- 
ly, has  the  Sanctuary  opened  its  peaceful  doors,  to  invite  your 
feet,  and  allure  your  hearts,  into  the  presence  of  a  forgiving  God. 


SER.  XVIII.]  FOR  THE  NEW  YEAR.  26 1 

The  Voice  of  Mercy  has  there  proclaimed  in  your  ears,  "  glory 
to  God  in  the  highest ;  peace  on  earth,  and  good  will  towards 
men."  Here  you  have  been  brought  to  the  foot  of  the  Mercy- 
Seat,  to  spread  your  sins  before  your  Maker,  and  to  make  known 
to  him  your  wants,  infirmities,  and  dangers.  Here  the  awful 
character  of  this  great  and  glorious  Being  has  been  unfolded  to 
your  view.  You  have  learned,  irresistibly  and  abundantly,  that 
to  the  eye  of  his  unspotted  purity  "  the  heavens  are  not  clean  ;" 
and  that  Man,  therefore,  who  "  drinketh  iniquity  like  water," 
cannot  but  be  regarded  by  him  with  detestation  and  abhorrence. 
At  the  same  time,  you  have  been  taught,  that  his  name  is  "  the 
Lord,  the  Lord  God,  merciful  and  gracious ;  slow  to  anger ; 
abundant  in  goodness  and  truth  ;  forgiving  iniquity,  transgres- 
sion, and  sin ;"  although  "  he  will  by  no  means  clear  the"  im- 
penitently  "  guilty." 

In  this  solemn  place,  the  Law  of  God,  in  its  nature  perfect  and 
divine  ;  supremely  delightful  to  all  virtuous  beings  ;  and  to  the 
great  kingdom  of  Jehovah  the  source  of  boundless  and  immor- 
tal good  ;  but  terrible  beyond  expression  to  all  the  workers  of  in- 
iquity ;  has  thundered  its  denunciations  against  your  rebellion. 
In  the  same  place,  also,  the  Gospel  has  proclaimed  to  you  from 
the  world  of  glory,  "there  is  more  joy  in  heaven  over  one  sinner 
that  repenteth,  than  over  ninety  and  nine  just  persons,  who  need 
no  repentance."  "  Whosoever  will,"  therefore,  "  let  him  come, 
and  take  of  the  water  of  life  freely." 

Here  the  Saviour  of  Mankind,  who,  great  and  exalted  as  he  is, 
and  ever  was,  has  always  "  rejoiced  in  the  habitable  parts  of  the 
earth  and  found  his  delights  with  the  sons  of  men,"  has  presented 
himself  before  your  eyes  as  a  Lamb,  slain  for  your  sins,  "  from  the 
foundation  of  the  world."  Infinitely  rich,  he  has  here  shown  you, 
that  "  for  your  sakes  he  became  poor,  that  you  through  him  might 
become  rich."  You  have  seen  him  descend  from  heaven,  and 
dwell  with  the  sons  of  men  ;  become  "  a  man  of  sorrows,  and  ac- 
quainted with  grief,"  poor,  humble,  despised,  rejected  of  men, 
and  unpossessed  of  a  place,  where  to  lay  his  head.  You  have 
seen  him  ascend  the  cross ;  and  nailed  to  the  accursed  tcee.    His 

Vol.  H.  M 


262  A  SERMON  [SER.  XVIIf. 

body  has  been  broken,  his  blood  has  been  poured  out,  before  your 
eyes.  You  have  witnessed  his  expiring  agonies  ;  have  heard  his 
dying  exclamations ;  and  have  followed  him  to  the  grave.  You 
have  seen  him  rise  from  the  dead,  ascend  to  heaven,  and  "  sit 
down  at  the  right  hand  of  the  majesty  on  high." 

At  this  very  moment  this  divine  person  stands  before  you  on 
Mount  Zion,  surrounded  with  his  glorious  followers,  "  redeemed 
jfrom  among"  men,  and  the  first  fruits  unto  God  ;  singing  the  new 
song  of  forgiving,  redeeming,  and  sanctifying  love.  This  delight- 
ful assembly  invite  you  with  unspeakable  earnestness  and  affec- 
tion, and  have  here  weekly  invited  you,  to  become  partakers  of 
their  everlasting  joy. 

To  these  invitations  "  the  Spirit  of  Truth"  has  here,  and  every- 
where, subjoined  his  own  voice  of  infinite  mercy  ;  and  mingled  his 
entreaties  with  those  of  the  Father  and  the  Son.  He  dictated 
the  Gospel,  and  all  its  invitations.  He  has  accompanied  you, 
wherever  you  have  been  ;  and  whispered  to  you,  with  a  "  still, 
small  voice,"  faith,  repentance,  and  salvation,  from  the  cradle  to 
the  present  hour.  With  this  glorious  person  "  the  bride,"  the 
Church  of  God,  has  united  her  own  earnest  persuasion,  and  cal- 
led out  to  you,  "  come,  and  take  the  water  of  life  freely." 

In  the  mean  time,  you  have  not  been  invited  and  alarmed, 
only.  You  have  also  been  warned,  and  reproved.  Sickness, 
sorrow,  and  pain,  have  checked  you  in  the  career  of  sin,  and  ad- 
monished you  to  be  ready  for  your  final  account.  Danger  has 
warned  you  of  your  near  approach  to  eternity.  Death,  aiming 
his  fatal  dart  against  one  and  another  of  your  friends  and  com- 
panions, has  made  you  tremble  for  yourselves ;  and  awakened  in 
your  minds  fearful  apprehensions  of  an  approaching  judgment. 
The  grave,  with  an  awful  voice,  has  summoned  you  to  its  secret 
and  melancholy  chambers,  to  behold  the  "  house  appointed  for 
all  living  ;"  assembled  before  your  eyes  the  unnumbered  millions, 
who  inhabit  these  dark  recesses  ;  and,  among  them,  has  selected 
for  your  solemn  survey  those  of  your  own  age,  circumstances,  ac- 
quaintance, and  friendship,  who  have  gone  before  you  to  these 
mansions  of  silence  and  oblivion.     All  this  vast  multitude  have 


SJER.  XVIII.3  FOR  THE  NEW  YEAR.  0(33 

cried  out  to  you  with  one  affecting  voice,  "  remember,  frail  and 
dying  mortals,  that  this  is  your  last  home." 

In  the  mean  time,  you  have  been  solemnly  reproved  for  your 
sins  by  the  Word  of  God.  Every  page  of  this  sacred  book, 
whenever  you  have  read  it,  has  addressed  to  you  plain  and  pun- 
gent reproofs  of  all  your  transgressions.  Whenever  you  have  not ; 
the  very  sight  of  it  has  silently  and  powerfully  reproached  you 
for  your  spiritual  sloth,  and  guilty  negligence.  From  the  desk 
the  same  reproofs  have  been  weekly  explained,  urged,  and  enfor- 
ced upon  you.  To  these  monitors  your  parents  have  added 
themselves  ;  and  in  a  thousand  forms,  and  on  a  thousand  occa- 
sions, have  "  pricked  you  to  the  heart"  with  their  remonstrances 
against  your  sins.  To  all,  your  own  consciences  have  answered 
Amen ;  and  have  awakened  in  your  bosoms  remorse  for  your 
guilt,  and  the  terrors  of  your  future  trial. 

Seasons  at  the  same  time  have  rolled  around  you,  to  shower 
their  bounties  upon  your  heads.  Blessings  have  danced  and 
sported  before  you  in  trains  innumerable.  The  hand  of  your  di- 
vine Benefactor,  working  every  where,  and  in  every  thing,  has 
wrought  only  kindness  for  you.  With  the  hand  of  bounty,  with 
the  voice  of  mercy,  he  has  charmed  you  to  himself  in  a  manner 
worthy  of  a  God. 

All  these  blessings,  both  spiritual  and  temporal ;  all  these  in- 
structions, invitations,  warnings,  and  reproofs,  have  been  commu- 
nicated to  you,  particularly,  throughout  the  year  which  has  just 
finished  its  circuit.  No  year  of  your  lives  has,  perhaps,  been 
more  illumined  by  the  beams  of  mercy.  No  days  have,  perhaps, 
more  strongly  witnessed  the  goodness,  patience,  and  forbearance, 
of  God.  Your  hfe,  your  health,  your  presence  in  this  house,  your 
attendance  on  these  solemn  ordinances,  are  all  unanswerable  tes- 
timonies of  the  divine  mercy.  Not  even  a  single  day,  out  of  the 
three  hundred  and  sixty  five,  which  this  year  has  contained,  has 
passed  by  you,  without  leaving  both  its  blessings,  and  its  admo- 
nitions, behind. 

2dly.  From  persons^  thus  situated,  God  has  reasonably  ex- 
pected to  find  fruits  of  piety  and  righteousness. 


264  A  SERMON  [SER.  XVfll. 

The  observations,  made  under  the  former  head,  are  ample 
proofs,  that  God  has  been  long  employed  in  preparing  you  to  be- 
come fruitful.  Your  present  age  forcibly  declares,  that  the  time 
has  long  since  arrived,  when  this  character  ought  to  have  been 
found  upon  you.  That  God  has  waited  long  you  cannot  deny. 
That  he  has  often  come,  seeking  the  fruits  of  holiness  in  your 
hearts  and  in  your  lives,  you  will  not  dare  to  question.  That  he 
has  called  you  to  faith  in  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  to  a  sincere  re- 
pentance of  your  sins,  to  a  diligent  reformation  of  your  lives,  to 
the  supreme  love  and  reverence  of  himself,  and  to  an  universal 
beneficence  to  your  fellow  men;  and  that  he  has  called  you  to 
these  things,  times  and  ways  innumerable  ;  you  cannot  but  know. 
Nor  can  you  allege  a  reason,  why  you  have  not  become  penitent, 
believing,  and  obedient.  These  things  every  reason  enforces  up- 
on you.  Every  reason  enforces  his  right  to  demand,  as  well  as 
to  expect,  them  at  your  hands.  He  has  given  you  knowledge  to 
discern,  and  opportunities  to  perform,  all  your  duty.  Before  you 
he  has  daily  spread  motives  of  the  highest  import,  to  induce  your 
obedience  :  motives  infinite,  awfully  alarming,  and  immensely  en- 
dearing. 

If  then  you  have  not  been  fruitful  in  his  service  ;  if  you  have 
not  believed  ;  if  you  have  not  obeyed  ;  it  is  not  because  you  have 
wanted  either  the  opportunities,  the  means,  or  the  motives.  Your 
own  disobedient,  sinful,  barren  nature  has  been  the  real  reason ; 
and  not  any  want  of  attention,  care,  or  culture,  from  him.  The 
fault  is  yours  ;  and  the  charge  will  rest  ultimately  upon  your  own 
heads. 

3dly.  There  is  much  reason  to  believe,  that  many  of  you  have, 
notwithstanding  all  these  advantages,  been  loholly  unfruitful. 

Your  life  and  conversation  yield  no  substantial  or  satisfactory 
proofs,  that  you  have  ever  exercised  the  faith  of  the  Gospel. 
There  is  no  visible  evidence,  that  Christ  has  become  a  Saviour  to 
you.  He  has  solemnly  declared,  that  those,  who  "do  not  confess 
him  before  men,  he  will  not  confess"  at  the  final  day.  But  you 
do  not  confess  him  before  men.  He  has  declared,  that  those  are 
"  his  disciples,  indeed,  who  do  his  commandments."    But  you  do 


SER.  XVIII.]  FOR  THE  NEW  YEAR.  2G5 

not  his  commandments.  Where  are  the  proofs,  even  to  the  eye 
of  the  most  affectionate  charity,  that  you  sincerely  repent  of  your 
sins ;  humble  yourselves  before  God  ;  love  his  Name,  his  Word, 
his  Law,  or  his  Gospel.  Does  it  seem  true,  even  to  yourselves, 
that  you  are  friends  of  the  Redeemer,  children  of  God,  and  heirs 
of  his  everlasting  love. 

Have  you  even  begun  to  do  well ;  to  seek  the  favour  of  God  ; 
or  to  ask,  in  earnest,  for  the  forgiveness  of  your  sins  ?  When  has 
the  house  of  God,  when  have  your  closets,  been  witnesses  of 
your  prayers  ?  When  has  God  been  a  witness  of  your  humble 
supplication  to  him,  to  remember  you  with  his  mercy,  blot  out 
your  transgressions,  and  save  your  souls  ?  Has  "  the  Angel,  who 
offereth  the  prayers  of  the  saints  with  much  incense,"  ever  been 
furnished  with  an  opportunity  of  offering  yours  ?  If  you  have 
not  obeyed  God  in  these  things  ;  you  certainly  have  not  obeyed 
him  in  any  thing  else.  If  you  have  not  done  good  to  yourselves; 
you  certainly  have  not,  from  the  heart,  done  good  to  others. 

Is  there  not,  then,  the  most  fearful  reason  to  believe,  that  you 
have  not  even  entered  upon  that  "  patient  continuance  in  well- 
doing," which  is  the  strait  and  narrow  way,  to  "  glory,  honour, 
and  immortality?"  Is  not  the  love  of  the  world  your  controlling, 
and  only,  principle  of  action  ?  Are  not  all  your  thoughts  worldly 
thoughts  ?  Are  not  all  your  wishes  worldly  wishes  ?  Are  not  all 
your  plans,  plans  of  pleasure,  ambition,  and  avarice.  Is  it  not 
evident  to  yourselves,  as  well  as  to  the  attentive  eyes  of  the  reli- 
gious persons  around  you,  that  your  hearts  are  "  choked  by  the 
cares  and  pleasures  of  this  life,"  and  are  thus  rendered  wholly 
unfruitful  in  the  service  of  God.  Have  you  not,  at  times,  had 
seasons  of  more  than  common  seriousness  and  concern,  about 
your  moral  and  your  future  state  1  Did  you  not  then  feel,  that 
you  were  sinners :  that  repentance  and  reformation  were  abso- 
lutely necessary  for  you  ;  and,  therefore  that  you  were  still  stran- 
gers to  God,  and  "  to  the  covenant  of  promise  ?" 

But  whether  you  have  been  conscious  of  these  things,  or  not ; 
others  have  known  them.  A  fluttering,  vain,  pleasure-loving  life 
is  complete  proof  of  a  fluttering,  vain,  pleasure-loving  heart.     A 


266  A  SERMON  [SER.  XVIII. 

worldly  mind  is  employed  and  discovered,  in  the  eager  pursuit 
of  worldly  objects.  "  This  is  the  love  of  God,  that  we  keep  his 
commandments."  He,  who  does  not  keep  these  commandments, 
does  not  love  their  Author.     These  things  being  true,  there  is, 

4thly.  No  small  reason  to  fear,  that  God  has  said,  or  will  soon 
say,  of  some  or  other  of  you,  "  Lo  these  three  years  I  have  come, 
seeking  fruit  of  these  trees  and  finding  none.  Cut  them  doivn. 
Why  cumber  they  the  ground  .^" 

The  patience  and  forbearance  of  God  extend  to  every  man 
but  a  limited  time.  His  own  day  is  allotted  to  every  man  ;  as 
theirs  was  to  the  inhabitants  of  Jerusalem.  "  If  in  this  day  they 
know  the  things  of  their  peace  ;"  it  is  happy:  if  not ;  they  are 
forever  "  hidden  from  their  eyes." 

This  period,  every  man  ought  to  remember,  may  to  him,  be 
shorter  than  his  life.  There  are  transgressions  so  violent ;  there 
is  an  obstinacy  of  mind  so  obdurate ;  there  is  a  corruption  so  en- 
tire ;  as  to  terminate  the  hope,  and  the  day,  of  salvation  in  final 
and  judicial  impenitence. 

Suffer  not  yourselves  to  believe,  that  reprobation  is  the  conse- 
quence of  those  only,  which  you  are  accustomed  to  consider  as 
gross  and  scandalous  sins.  That  terrible  rejection,'  so  affectingly 
announced  in  the  first  chapter  of  Proverbs  by  Christ,  the  Eternal 
Wisdom  of  God,  is  founded  upon  far  other  sins,  than  these;  upon 
sins,  which  you  probably  have  thought  of  little  consequence ; 
the  sins  of  unbelief,  impenitence,  and  neglect  of  duty.  "  Be- 
cause I  have  called,"  says  the  awful  and  final  Judge,  "  and  ye 
refused  ;  I  have  stretched  out  my  hand,  and  no  man  regarded  : 
but  ye  have  set  at  nought  all  my  cousel,  and  would  none  of  my 
reproof:  I  also  will  laugh  at  your  calamity  ;  I  will  mock  when 
your  fear  cometh  ;  when  your  fear  cometh  as  desolation  ;  and 
your  destruction  cometh  as  a  whirlwind :  when  distress  and  an- 
guish cometh  upon  you.  Then  shall  they  call  upon  me  ;  but  I 
will  not  answer :  they  shall  seek  me  early  ;  but  they  shall  not 
find  me  :  For  that  they  hated  knowledge,  and  did  not  choose 
the  fear  of  the  Lord."  Let  me  beseech  you  to  remember  how 
often  Christ  has  called  to  you,  and  how  steadily  you  have  refused; 


SER.  XVIir.]  FOR  THE  NEW  YEAR.  267 

how  often,  and  how  earnestly,  He  has  "  stretched  out  his  hand" 
to  you,  and  how  uniformly  you  have  disregarded.  Let  me  be- 
seech you  to  remember,  with  what  constancy  of  character  you 
"have  set  at  nought  all  his  counsel,  and"  cast  away  "his  reproof." 
Ought  you  not,  then,  to  tremble,  lest  he  also  should  "  laugh  at 
your  calamity,  and  mock  when  your  fear  cometh."  Ought  you 
not  to  shudder,  lest  he  should  say  of  you,  "  Then  shall  they  call 
upon  me  ;  but  I  will  not  answer ;  they  shall  seek  me  early ;  but 
they  shall  not  find  me  ;  because  they  hated  knowledge,  and  did 
not  choose  the  fear  of  the  Lord."  Are  not  the  very  sins,  of 
which  many  in  this  assembly  are,  and  have  long  been,  unques- 
tionably guilty,  exactly  and  terribly  declared  in  this  passage  ? 
Are  you  not  conscious,  that  these  sins  are  yours  ?  Whence  then 
can  you  hope  to  escape  this  dreadful  denunciation  ? 

There  are,  God  himself  assures  you  that  there  are,  men,  "  who 
after  their  hard  and  impenitent  hearts  treasure  up  wrath  against 
the  day  of  wrath,  and  the  revelation  of  the  righteous  judgment 
of  God."  There  are  "vessels  of  wrath,  endured"  by  God 
"  with  much  long  suffering"  while  they  "  are  fitting  for  destruc- 
tion." Are  you  assured  that  you  are  not  of  this  unhappy  number  ? 
Your  hearts,  hitherto,  have  been  hard  and  impenitent.  Have 
not  you  then,  like  others  of  this  character,  "  treasured  up,"  to 
the  present  time,  "  wrath  against  the  day  of  wrath  ?"  Your  in- 
gratitude, impiety,  and  rebellion,  have  hitherto  been  endured, 
and  certainly  not,  without  "  much  long  suffering."  Is  there  not, 
then,  very  affecting  reason  to  fear,  that  you  are  "  vessels  of  wrath, 
fitting  for  destruction." 

But  you  are  still  endured.  The  invaluable  season  of  life  is  still  by 
the  hand  of  Mercy  prolonged  to  you.  Is  not  this  blessing  derived  to 
you  from  a  source,  similar  to  that,  mentioned  in  the  Text ;  the  in- 
tercession of  those  religious  friends,  whose  character  you  have  per- 
haps despised,  whose  instructions  you  have  disregarded,  whose  re- 
proofs you  have  resented,  and  whose  example  you  have  disdained  to 
follow?  They,  with  a  disposition  far  different  from  yours,  have  pitied 
your  insensibility  to  your  danger  ;  and  your  regular,  and  by  your- 
selves unperceived,  approach  to  final  ruin.  Accordingly,  while  you 


268  A  SERMON  [SER.  XVIII. 

were  asleep  in  your  corruption,  and  "  dead  in  trespasses  and  sins," 
they  entered  heaven  with  their  prayers ;  and  became  fervent,  im- 
portunate, supphants  before  the  throne  of  mercy  for  the  prolonga- 
tion of  your  lives.  The  uplifted  arm  of  vengeance  has,  perhaps  in 
this  manner,  been  stayed  ;  and  the  shaft  of  death  been  stopped  on 
the  bow-string.  Had  the  day  of  your  doom  not  been  postponed; 
where  would  you  have  been  now  ?  Had  you  been  called  to  a  dy- 
ing bed,  during  the  past  year  ;  what  would  have  been  your  reflec- 
tions on  the  life  which  you  had  led  ?  What  your  feelings,  while 
you  stood  on  the  verge  of  eternity  ?  What  your  expectations  of 
a  reception  beyond  the  grave  ?  Had  you  been  summoned  to 
the  Judgment ;  what  must  have  been  your  account  ?  Had  the 
sentence  of  retribution  been  pronounced  on  you ;  what  would 
have  been  your  allotment  ?  Is  there  not  the  most  dreadful  reason 
to  believe,  that  this  world  would  have  been  most  unhappily  ex- 
changed by  you  for  another  ? 

But  the  voice  of  intercession  itself  must  one  day  fail,  and  fail  to 
you.  The  friends,  who  have  so  kindly  besought  for  you  the  di- 
vine mercy,  will  soon  close  their  eyes  in  dust ;  and  go  to  receive 
the  reward  of  their  piety.  You  will  then  be  left  behind.  Should 
they  live  ;  like  Noah,  Daniel,  and  Job,  in  the  case  specified  by  the 
Prophet  Ezekiel,  they  may  be  able  to  "  deliver  only  their  own 
souls."  For  you  God  may  hear  their  cries  no  more.  Should 
tJiei/  live  ;  you  may  die  ;  may  be  "  cut  down  as  cumberers  of  the 
ground,  and  cast  out  of  the  vineyard."  Should  this  be  your  lot 
during  the  year  which  is  begun ;  what,  in  your  own  view,  will  be 
your  probable  reception  in  the  future  world  ?  Should  it  be  found- 
ed on  what  you  have  already  done ;  do  you  believe  it  could  be 
happy  ?  Would  you  be  willing,  were  the  decision  left  to  your- 
selves, to  be  "  rewarded  according  to  the  deeds,"  which  you  have 
"  done  in  the  body  ?" 

Many  youths  of  your  own  age,  many  more  still  younger  than 
you,  and  some  of  them  numbered  among  your  companions  and 
friends,  have  during  the  past  year  gone  down  to  the  land  of  si- 
lence ;  finished  their  probation  ;  and  entered  upon  the  "  recom- 
pense of  reward."    What  has  become  of  them  ?    Have  not  some 


SER.  XVIII.]  FOR  THE  NEW  YEAR.  269 

of  them  been  cut  off"  in  the  midst  of  their  sins  ?  Have  they  not  in 
all  probability  met  that  Saviour,  as  their  Judge,  whom  they  dis- 
believed, denied,  and  contemned,  to  the  last  1  Has  their  retribu- 
tion, in  your  view,  been  probably  of  such  a  nature  that  you  would 
be  willing  to  make  it  your  own  ?  Was  their  conduct  here  such, 
upon  the  whole,  that  without  apprehension,  without  trembling, 
you  now  dare  to  follow  them  in  your  thoughts  to  their  present 
habitation?  If  they,  if  any  of  them,  have  been  cut  off"  in  the 
midst  of  their  sins,  during  the  past  year ;  where  is  your  safety, 
during  that  which  is  now  begun  ? 

Among  the  sins,  which  may  contribute  largely  to  your  reproba- 
tion, and  may  peculiarly  provoke  God  to  destroy  you  in  the  midst 
of  your  days,  your  procrastination  is  probably  not  the  least.    Few 
things  are  more  provoking,  or  less  cheerfully  forgiven,  by  man- 
kind to  their  fellow  men,  than  Procrastination.     A  fraudulent 
debtor  is  scarcely  regarded  by  his  creditor  with  stronger  feelings 
of  censure,  and  rarely  with  more  contempt  or  hatred,  than  he,  who 
is  continually  resolving,  and  promising,  and  yet  never  pays.    The 
workman,  who  gives  you  the  promise,  or  the  encouragement,  of 
doing  a  piece  of  service  for  you,  and  from  time   to  time  post- 
pones the  performance,  while  he  still  continues  to  promise  and 
encourage,  soon  becomes  an  object  of  absolute  loathing.     A 
child,  who,  when  reproved,  and  punished,  for  his  frowardness,  or 
treated  perhaps  with  indulgence   and  tenderness,  from  the  fond 
hope,  that  he  may  amend,  engages  from  time  to  time,  but  never 
begins,  to  reform  his  life,  becomes  an  inexpressible  weariness  to 
his  father,  and  an, insupportable  "  heaviness  to  his  mother."     All 
these  characters  you  unite  in  one  ;  and,  like  them  all,  postpone 
your  duty,  your  repentance,  and  your  reformation,  to  a  future 
time.     These  things  you  have  postponed,  from  time  to  time, 
through  hfe.     The  past  year,  given  to  you  for  the  very  purpose  of 
bringing  you  to  repentance  and  reformation,  and  thus  conducting 
you  to  endless  life,  has  rolled  all  its  days  and  nights  over  your 
heads,  and  seen  all  these  invaluable  purposes  unaccomplished. 
What  a  dark  and  melancholy  chapter  must  that  be,  in  the  his- 
tory of  an  immortal  being,  which,  through  the  best  ye^r  of  his 
Vol.  II.  .35 


270  A  SERMON  [SER.  XVIII. 

probation,  records  not  a  single  effort  to  gain  the  blessings  of  im- 
mortality ?  What  an  afflicting  story  must  that  be  concerning 
such  a  being,  which  is  made  up  of  impiety,  rebellion,  ingratitude, 
unbelief,  impenitence,  evil  thoughts,  evil  designs,  evil  conversa- 
tion, and  evil  conduct?  What  a  dreadful  blank  must  that  vol- 
ume of  life  be,  in  which  there  is  found  not  "  one  good  thing  to- 
wards the  Lord  God  of  Israel ;"  which  records  no  service  done 
for  God  ;  no  voluntary  beneficence  to  mankind ;  not  a  solitary 
attempt  to  oppose  sin  ;  not  a  single  exercise  of  gratitude,  or  faith, 
towards  the  Redeemer?  With  what  emotions  will  you  see  this 
volume  opened,  and  yourselves  about  to  be  "judged  out  of  the 
things,  which  are  written"  on  its  pages  ?  How  guilty,  how  deplo- 
rable, how  pernicious,  will  your  procrastination  then  appear; 
and  how  will  your  hearts  die  within  you,  to  find  it  all  perfectly 
known,  and  perfectly  abhorred,  by  your  Judge  ? 

But  is  there  not  the  most  afflicting  reason  to  fear,  that  the 
whole  year  has  passed  by  you,  without  witnessing  even  a  single 
attempt  to  renounce  your  sins,  and  turn  to  God  ?  Are  you  not 
now  conscious,  that  not  even  one  solitary  prayer  has  ascended 
from  your  lips  for  the  forgiveness  of  your  sins,  and  the  sanctifica- 
tion  of  your  souls  ;  that  God  has  not  been  even  asked  to  remem- 
ber you  with  mercy  ;  that  not  a  single  wish  has  started  up  in  your 
minds  for  immortal  life  ?  What  a  melancholy  year  must  this  then 
be,  to  be  remembered  by  you  beyond  the  grave  ? 

With  all  these  solemn  reflections  before  your  eyes,  let  me  in  the 

5th  place,  exhort  you  most  seriously  to  consider  in  what  man- 
ner the  present  year  ought  to  be  employed.         ,i 

The  present  year  may,  without  any  improbability,  be  your  last; 
and,  if  not,  it  may  be  the  last  of  your  accepted  time.  Should 
you  survive  it ;  as  most  of  you  probably  will ;  God  may  say  of 
you,  if  another  year  should  find  you  still  hardening  your  hearts, 
and  postponing  your  repentance,  as  he  said  of  such  as  you  are, 
by  the  mouth  of  the  Prophet.  "  What  could  have  been  done 
more  to  my  vineyard,  that  I  have  not  done  in  it?  Wherefore, 
when  1  looked,  that  it  should  bring  forth  grapes,  brought  it  forth 
wild  grapes  ?  And  now  go  to ;  I  will  tell  you  what  I  will  do  to 


hER.  XVIIL]  FOR  THE  NEW  YEAR.  27 1 

my  vineyard.  I  will  take  away  the  hedge  thereof,  and  it  shall  be 
eaten  up  ;  and  break  down  the  wall  thereof,  and  it  shall  be  trod- 
den down.  And  I  will  lay  it  waste  :  it  shall  not  be  pruned,  nor 
digged ;  but  there  shall  come  up  briers  and  thorns :  I  will  also 
command  the  clouds,  that  they  rain  no  rain  upon  it."  These 
things  were  "  written  for  your  admonition."  They  are  indeed 
awful  things :  and,  however  stouthearted,  however  far  from  right- 
eousness you  may  be,  they  ought  to  force  you  not  merely  to 
hearken,  but  to  tremble.  How  dreadful  would  be  your  situation, 
should  God  execute  them  upon  you  ? 

Fasten  your  eyes,  then,  upon  this  year,  as  to  you  the  golden 
season  of  life.  Feel  the  uncertainty  of  living  to  another.  Trem- 
ble, lest  another,  if  it  should  arrive,  should  find  you  given  over  to 
hardness  of  heart.  Awake  out  of  the  lethargy,  by  which  you 
have  heen  so  long  benumbed.  Say  no  longer  "  A  little  more 
sleep,  a  little  more  slumber,  a  little  more  folding  of  the  hands  to 
sleep."  Mark  the  progress  of  your  past  conduct  ?  What  has  it 
produced  ?  Hardness  of  heart,  blindness  of  mind,  and  guiltiness 
of  life.  What  will  it  hereafter  produce  ?  The  same  blindness, 
the  same  hardness,  the  same  guilt.  In  what  will  it  end  ?  In  ev- 
erlasting "  lamentation,  mourning,  and  woe." 

Prize  then  the  present  year,  as  of  value  literally  inestimable. 
Enter  upon  it  with  solemn  resolutions,  formed  with  an  affecting 
remembrance  that  God  is  a  witness  of  them,  to  consecrate  it  to 
his  service,  your  own  duty,  and  the  attainment  of  life  eternal. 
You  are  now  living.  There  is  now  hope  concerning  you.  God 
IS  now  waiting  to  be  gracious.  Pardon  is  still  proffered.  Christ 
with  infinite  tenderness  still  invites  you  to  repent,  and  be  saved. 

How  delightful  to  a  benevolent  mind  is  even  the  thought,  how 
much  more  delightful  the  hope,  that,  induced  by  these  conside- 
rations, or  by  any  considerations,  some  of  those,  who  are  now  be- 
fore me,  will,  during  the  present  year,  enter  the  way  to  heaven  ; 
that  some,  who  never  uttered  a  prayer,  will  have  it  truly  said  of 
them  "  Behold  they  pray  !"  How  charming  an  object  to  the  eye 
of  compassion,  to  see  the  Bible,  hitherto  left  on  the  shelf,  unread 
and  forgotten,  seriously  and  daily  opened,  to  find  the  words  of 


272  A  SERMON  FOR  THE  NEW  YEAR.         [SER.  XVIII 

eternal  life?  Who,  although  an  obstinate  sinner  himself,  can  fail, 
from  natural  tenderness  only,  to  rejoice  in  the  thought,  that  that 
sacred  Book  will  solemnize,  enlighten,  and  allure,  even  a  little 
number  of  those,  to  whom  it  has  hitherto  spoken  in  vain?  What 
a  glorious  prospect  must  it  be  in  the  view  of  Christians,  to  see  the 
kinydom  of  heaven  enlarged  from  this  congregation  ?  Realize 
with  me,  for  a  moment,  the  transporting  nature  of  this  mighty 
change.  In  the  place  of  stupidity,  unbelief,  and  irreligion,  be- 
hold a  sober  mind  ;  a  sweet,  pure,  and  heavenly  conversation  ;  a 
sanctified  Sabbath;  and  a  Sanctuary  solemnized,  warmed,  and 
hallowed,  with  devotion.  The  miserable  sinners  of  this  assembly, 
so  long  lost  in  the  sleep  of  death,  awake,  stand  on  their  feet,  and 
become  living  children  of  God.  Here  Gou  is  feared,  loved,  and 
glorified  ;  the  Redeemer  is  trusted,  honoured,  and  blessed  ;  and 
his  Church,  no  longer  a  wilderness,  blossoms  and  smiles  as  the 
garden  of  God.  Must  not  those  ministering  spirits,  who  are 
"sent  forth  to  minister  to  them  that  are  heirs  of  salvation,"  de- 
light, peculiarly,  to  minister  here  ?  Nay,  must  not  these  very  walls 
rejoice  to  see  immortal  minds,  in  the  morning  of  life,  here  dedi- 
cated to  God  in  the  eternal  covenant,  and  mercifully  taken  into 
the  arms  of  the  Saviour  ?  Hasten,  O  hasten,  ye  happy  days, 
when  a  divine  intercourse  between  this  Seat  of  Learning  and  the 
World  of  Life  shall  be  gloriously  enlarged  ;  when,  not  from  the 
deserted  Bethel  of  Judea,  but  from  this  house  of  God,  the  Lad- 
der, seen  by  Jacob,  shall  ascend  to  heaven  ;  the  prayers  of  every 
worshipper  daily  rise  to  that  benevolent  world ;  and  Angels,  and 
Blessings,  daily  descend.  Fly,  thou  happy  period,  when  the  pro- 
phetic eye,  with  a  rapturous  anticipation,  shall  behold  all  those, 
who  here  assemble  for  the  worship  of  God,  finally  and  forever 
assembled  in  the  glorious  worship  of  heaven,  and  the  supreme 
enjoyment  of  the  everlasting  kingdom  of  our  Lord  and  Saviour. 


i 


SERMON  XIX. 

LONG  LIFE  NOT  DESIRABLE. 

Job  vii.  16. 

/  would  not  live  alway. 

This  Chapter  is  a  most  solemn  and  affecting  account  of  the 
afflictions,  which  Job  had  experienced  ;  and  of  his  own  sense  of 
his  sufferings.  From  himself  he  makes  a  natural  and  almost  ne- 
cessary transition  to  mankind  at  large ;  and  utters  a  variety  of 
just  but  melancholy  observations  on  the  frailty,  vanity  and  dis- 
tresses, of  human  life.  Full  of  this  subject,  he  expostulates  with 
God  concerning  the  httleness  and  insignificance  of  man  ;  and 
enquires  with  wonder,  and  perhaps  with  impatience,  concerning 
the  regard,  which  God  has  been  pleased  to  render  to  hira  ;  a  be- 
ing seemingly,  and  really,  undeserving  of  his  attention  or  remem- 
brance. All  these  reflections  he  concludes  with  a  humble  con- 
fession of  his  sins  ;  a  humble  prayer  for  forgiveness  ;  and  a  new, 
and  most  affecting  declaration  of  the  momentary  duration  of  his 
life,  and  of  the  suddenness  of  his  departure  into  the  eternal 
world. 

Among  the  many  declarations,  contained  in  this  peculiar  pas- 
sage of  Scripture,  the  text  is,  perhaps,  singular :  "  I  would  not 
live  alway."  The  Hebrew  word,  here  rendered  alway,  is  render- 
ed variously  ;  denoting  sometimes  eternity,  and  sometimes  other 
long  periods;  particularly  the  longest  period,  of  which  any  thing 
is  capable.  It  might,  therefore,  be  paraphrased  here,  "  1  would 
not  live  the  whole  of  that  period,  of  which  my  life  according  to 
the  usual  course  of  human  affairs  is  capable.""  In  other  vvords, 
"  Very  long  life  is  not  desirable  to  me  in  the  present  world." 


274  LONG  LIFE  [SER.  XIX. 

To  this  choice,  Job  was  not  improbably  brought  in  a  greater 
or  less  degree  by  his  numerous  distresses.  Men  are  apt  to  love 
life,  even  under  great  sufferings  ;  and  much  more,  when  in  pos- 
session of  what  they  deem  valuable  enjoyments.  Had  Job's 
prosperity  continued  unbroken  ;  it  is  highly  probable,  that  he 
would  have  been  desirous  of  living  to  the  utmost  of  human  desti- 
ny ;  at  least,  that  he  would  have  felt  less  willing  to  part  with  life. 
Yet  the  determination,  made  by  him  in  this  passage,  is  unquali- 
fied ;  and,  as  it  is  expressed  and  most  naturally  understood,  may 
be  justly  regarded  as  respecting  human  life  at  large,  whether 
prosperous  or  afflicted.  In  this  manner  I  shall  consider  it ;  and 
shall  in  this  discourse  regard  Job  as  choosing,  although  convinced 
of  the  truth  and  justness  of  the  declaration  by  adversity,  to  ex- 
tend it  to  all  human  circumstances  ;  and  as  pronouncing  the 
choice  of  a  life  bounded  by  moderate  limits,  to  be  wise  and  just 
in  the  best,  as  well  as  in  the  worst,  condition.  A  declaration 
made  by  a  wise  and  good  man,  demands,  when  he  has  had  suffi- 
cient opportunities,  and  has  exercised  sufficient  attention,  to 
judge  well  of  the  subject  in  question,  a  respectful  regard  and 
careful  investigation  ;  when  made  in  the  Scriptures  of  truth,  it 
requires  ready  and  entire  belief,  however  it  may  contradict  our 
established  opinions.  Even  in  this  case,  however,  as  well  as  in 
the  other,  it  cannot  but  be  useful  to  explain  the  nature  of  the 
subject ;  and  see  how  far  the  state  of  things,  with  which  we  are 
acquainted,  will  elucidate  or  prove  the  doctrine  asserted.  Let 
us,  then,  examine  how  far  the  nature  of  the  subject  will  furnish 
sufficient  reason  to  justify  this  conclusion. 

1st.  Job,  so  far  as  a  man  can  be,  was  a  competent  Judge. 

He  abounded  in  the  good  things  of  this  life  ;  and,  from  the  ac- 
tual possession  of  them,  knew  better  than  most  other  men  their 
real  value. 

He  was  head  of  his  countrymen ;  "  the  greatest  of  all  the  men 
in  the  land  of  Uz,"  and  in  the  neighbouring  regions,  called,  in 
conjunction  with  that  land,  "  The  East." 

He  had  a  prosperous,  and,  it  would  seem,  a  dutiful  and  pious 
family. 


SER.  XIX.]  NOT  DESIRABLE.  275 

He  had  excellent  friends  ,■  men  of  great  wisdom  ;  sensible  of 
his  worth  ;  and  attached  to  him  by  the  strongest  ties  of  good  will. 

He  was  a  man  of  distinguished  piety  ;  and  piety  is  the  spirit, 
which,  "  rejoicing  in  the  truth,"  conducts  us  of  course  to  just  con- 
clusions. Besides,  it  mitigates  all  the  sorrows  of  life  ;  enhances 
all  its  comforts  ;  and  yields  many  blessings,  to  which  persons 
destitute  of  piety  are  strangers. 

He  possessed  uncommon  wisdom^  and  was  thus  able  to  discern 
with  peculiar  clearness,  and  certainty,  the  true  nature  of  such 
things,  as  became  objects  of  his  contemplation. 

He  enjoyed,  also,  in  an  eminent  degree  the  favour  of  God  ;  and 
was  conscious  of  this  invaluable  possession. 

Finally,  He  had  enjoyed  all  these  blessings  without  interrup- 
tion through  a  period  of  life,  far  longer  than  now  falls  to  the  lot 
of  man  ;  and  had  thus  the  amplest  opportunity  for  forming  a  just 
determination. 

Where  can  we  find  a  more  competent  judge  ? 

2dly.  Our  own  Experience  furnishes  strong  reasons  to  con- 
clude, that  the  decision  of  Job  was  just. 

This  truth  will  be  evident  from  the  following  considerations. 

First.   The  world  is  full  of  Temptations. 

These  are  found  in  every  place,  and  by  every  person.  The 
toy  and  the  rattle  lay  hold  on  the  child  in  the  same  manner,  as 
the  hope  of  distinction  and  the  prospect  of  pleasure,  on  the 
youth.  Power,  office,  and  fame,  corrupt  the  man  of  middle  age  : 
while  riches  fascinate  the  hoary-headed  possessor. 

These  temptations  are  most  extensively  presented  to  us  by  our- 
selves. Our  passions  and  appetites  are  ever  on  the  search  for 
their  respective  gratifications.  In  these,  they  declare,  lies  the 
only  good,  which  merits  our  attention.  Weakly  we  listen  to  the 
declaration,  and  foolishly  submit  to  have  the  eyes  of  our  under- 
standing hoodwinked ;  and  thus  hasten  blindfold  after  the  dar- 
ling objects;  while  Conscience  and  Reve!i!r:<>n  in  vfiin  recall  us 
from  the  pursuit.  When  we  have  obtained  and  enjoyed  them, 
we  wonder  that  they  furnish  no  higher  good  ;  and  then  listen 
again  to  the  same  seducers,  as  if  we  had  never  been  deceived. 


i 


276  LONG  LIFE  [SER.  XIX. 

All  around  us  eagerly  unite  in  renfdering-  the  seduction  effectual. 
The  young,  the  ga}',  the  splendid,  declare  with  persuasive  elo- 
quence, that  the  good  destined  for  man,  is  certainlj'  and  only 
found  in  pomp  and  pleasure.  The  ambitious  proclaim,  that  it 
lies  in  reputation,  place,  and  power.  The  industrious  and  frugal 
assure  us,  that  nothing  but  solid  wealth  can  yield  the  envied 
boon ;  and  that  all  things  else  are  toys  and  gewgaws.  The  In- 
fidel asserts,  that  no  real  good  consists  with  the  dread  of  an  here- 
after. The  Atheist,  still  wiser,  laughs  at  them  all ;  and  announ- 
ce;-!, that  himself  alone  has  found  the  coveted  object  in  the  dis- 
belief of  a  God. 

With  the  living  heiyigs,  hy  which  we  arc  encompassed^  all  others 
conspire.  The  bounties  f>f  Providence,  good  in  themselves,  and 
glorious  proofs  of  goodness  in  their  Author,  become,  under  the 
influence  of  our  appetites,  solicitations  to  gluttony,  and  drunken- 
ness. Abundance  begets  sloth,  pride,  self-confidence,  and  for- 
getfulness  of  God.  Indigence  awakens  fretfulness,  murmuring, 
ingratitude,  fraud,  theft,  and  profaneness.  Power  prompts  to 
arrogance,  oppression,  a  hard  heart,  iniquitous  claims  on  others, 
and  an  universal  corruption  of  ourselves.  Ambition  produces  a 
miserable  thirst  for  applause,  a  servile  dependence  on  popular  fa- 
vour, a  deplorable  venality  of  mind,  a  fatal  habit  of  sacrificing 
conscience  to  the  hope  of  preferment,  and  a  fatal  idolatry  to  the 
world.  Science  engrosses  the  heart ;  and  steals  it  away  from 
God.  Taste  and  refinement  enervate  independence,  reason,  and 
conscience  ;  and  offer  them  up  as  victims  to  the  pleasures  of  fan- 
cy, or  the  dictates  of  fashion.  Thus,  wherever  we  turn,  and 
whatever  we  converse  with ;  we  turn  from  allurement  to  allure- 
ment, and  converse  almost  only  with  temptations.  In  a  world, 
replete  with  such  dangers,  it  cannot  be  desirable  "  to  live  alway." 

Secondly.   The  world,  is  full  of  Sin. 

This  is  a  calamity,  from  which  not  an  individual  is  exempted. 
Ourselves,  our  dearest  relations,  our  most  beloved  friends,  to- 
gether with  all  around  us,  are  involved  in  the  general  evil.  Nor 
are  we  merely  sinful ;  but  exceedingly  sinful.  Our  hearts  are  ex- 
hibited by  Christ  as  a  treasury  of  sin  ;  whence  evil  things  only 


SER.  XIX.J  NOT  DESIRABLE.  277 

are  continually  brought  out,  A  propensity  to  evil  only,  unive^"" 
sal,  and  unresisted,  is  the  predominating  character  of  every  child 
of  Adam.  Every  one  is  begotten  and  born  in  his  likeness  ;  in  the 
character  of  apostacy,  revolt,  and  rebellion.  Hence  our  "  imag- 
ination is  full  of  evil."  A  leprosy  has  seized  the  soul,  and  cor- 
rupted its  whole  constitution ;  to  which  every  physician,  beside 
Christ,  attempts  in  vain  the  application  of  a  cure. 

Accordingly  we  perpetrate  iniquity  every  day  ;  conceive  it  in 
our  hearts  ;  utter  it  with  our  mouths ;  and  finish  it  with  our  hand. 
In  the  morning  we  rise  with  the  unhappy  purpose  :  to  complete 
it  we  toil  through  the  day  ;  and,  when  we  close  our  eyes  at  night, 
reluctantly  leave  it  unaccomplished. 

In  this  manner  we  commit  numberless  acts  of  impiety,  iniquity, 
and  rebellion.  Day  by  day  the  mass  is  heaped  up  ;  the  burden 
rendered  more  and  more  insupportable ;  and  the  preparation  for 
our  account  made  more  and  more  dreadful.  Of  course,  "  a  fear- 
ful looking  for  of  judgment  and  fiery  indignation  to  devour  us," 
is,  unless  we  are  benumbed  with  stupidity,  and  bewildered  with 
frenzy,  made  more  and  more  the  only  view  which  we  can  form  of 
our  future  being ;  the  only  prospect  of  endless  reward. 

No  calamity  can  be  equal  to  this.  Our  minds  are  deformed  ; 
our  understanding  perverted  ;  our  hearts  polluted  ;  and  ourselves 
debased  below  the  proper  level  of  Intelligent  beings.  Our  lives, 
also,  are  stained  with  guilt ;  and  rendered  odious  and  dreadful. 
Whenever  we  retire  into  ourselves ;  whenever  we  solemnly  ex- 
plore the  recesses  of  the  mind  ;  whenever  we  cast  a  just  and  mel- 
ancholy survey,  (for  melancholy  it  cannot  fail  to  be,)  over  the  per- 
verse and  miserable  wanderings  of  our  feet  through  the  journey  of 
life  ;  we  are  compelled  to  sit  in  judgment  on  ourselves,  to  antici- 
pate by  the  distressing  decision  of  our  consciences,  the  sentence 
of  filial  reprobation ;  and  to  declare,  that  in  this  character  we 
can  never  see  life,  but  are  condemned  already. 

On  the  contrary,  if  with  happier  views  and  determinations,  we 
have  renounced  our  enmity  against  God  ;  if  we  have  laid  aside 
the  weapons  of  our  warfare ;  if  moral  darkness  has  begun  to 
disappear,  and  holiness  to  dawn  in  our  minds  ;  if  we  have  closed 

Vol.  II.  36 


278  LONG  LIFE  [SER.  XIX 

with  Christ  oii  his  own  terms,  and  can  dimly  discover  and  hope- 
fully read  our  names  inscribed  "  in  the  Lamb's  book  of  hfe  ;''  if 
the  Spirit  of  Grace  with  a  benign  and  eternal  influence  has  de- 
scended, as  the  showers  of  heaven,  on  our  hearts;  if  our  souls 
have  begun  to  be  expanded,  ennobled,  and  refined,  with  love  to 
God  and  love  to  man  ;  our  state  has,  indeed,  been  rendered  in- 
estimably more  desirable.  Yet  it  is  still  far  from  being  secured 
against  the  intrusion  of  this  dreadful  evil.  "  Oh  wretched  man, 
that  I  am  !  who  shall  deliver  me  from  the  body  of  this  death?" 
is  the  natural  and  necessary  exclamation  of  the  best  Christian 
who  has  ever  lived  ;  springing  spontaneously  from  a  heart,  deeply 
affected  with  a  sense  of  his  sins,  and  flowing  instinctively  from 
his  hps.  The  suffering  is  too  great  to  be  neglected,  or  concealed. 
It  returns  too  often  to  be  forgotten,  or  to  be  contemplated  with- 
out terror  and  anguish.  A  languor  of  mind,  strongly  resembling 
the  languor  of  disease,  renders  every  effort  to  act  and  to  resist,  to 
guard  or  to  overcome,  feeble,  painful,  and  discouraging.  The 
struggles  really  made,  are  too  often  the  struggles  of  a  sick  man : 
and  the  soul,  distressed  on  the  one  hand  with  a  knowledge  that 
they  are  necessary,  and  on  the  other  with  a  conviction  of  the  ter- 
rifying probability  that  they  will  be  ineffectual,  frequently  sinks  in 
the  conflict ;  and  in  a  great  measure  ceases  to  strive,  because  it 
feels  assured  that  it  will  strive  in  vain.  Its  views  of  the  Divine 
promises,  which  convey  grace  and  strength,  are  dim  and  distant : 
its  faith  is  perplexed  by  doubt,  and  enfeebled  by  fear  ;  its  hold  on 
hope,  and  heaven,  and  God,  in  a  great  measure  loosened,  its 
strength  "  a  bruised  reed,"  demanding  the  careful  support  of  an 
Almighty  hand,  to  prevent  it  from  being  broken  off*;  and  its  light 
that  of  "  the  dimly  burning  flax,"  at  times  apparently  extinguish- 
ed, and  to  the  eye  of  hope  itself  scarcely  capable  of  continuing 
to  shine. 

There  are  indeed  brighter  and  better  seasons ;  and  to  some  of 
those,  who  are  sanctified,  they  frequently  return  ;  but  the  best 
and  happiest  are  often  obliged  to  go  mourning  all  the  day.  Sin 
is  a  poison,  which  spreads  through  all  the  veins  and  all  the  facul- 
ties.   It  becomes  a  part  of  the  constitution  of  every  fibre.     Un- 


!'■' 


:»ER.  XIX.]  NOT  DESIRABLE.  279 

ceasing  applications,  directed  with  the  highest  skill,  and  adopted 
with  the  greatest  exactness  and  care,  repeated  every  day  and  con- 
tinued through  life;  are  at  the  utmost  barely  sufficient  to  increase 
the  tendency  towards  returning  health,  and  to  secure  the  unhappy 
patient  from  final  dissolution. 

To  all  these  evils  is  inseparably  annexed  a  continual  sense 
of  the  anger  of  God.  Nothing  but  a  paralytic  torpor  can  pre- 
vent any  man  from  believing,  and  feeling,  that  He,  before  whom 
"the  heavens  are  unclean"  and  whose  "angels  are  charged 
with  folly,"  must  regard,  as  immensely  "  more  abominable  and 
filthy,  man,  who  drinketh  iniqmty  like  water."  Every  good 
man  feels  this  distress  of  course ;  and  says  instinctively,  "  O 
Lord  God  of  my  salvation !  I  have  cried  day  and  night  be- 
fore thee.  Let  my  prayer  come  before  thee :  incline  thine  ear 
unto  my  cry.  For  my  soul  is  full  of  troubles  ;  and  my  life  draw- 
eth  nigh  unto  the  grave.  I  am  counted  with  them  that  go  down 
into  the  pit :  I  am  as  a  man,  that  hath  no  strength  ;  free  among 
the  dead,  like  the  slain,  that  lie  in  the  grave,  whom  thou  remem- 
berest  no  more,  and  they  are  cut  off  from  thy  hand.  Thou  hast 
laid  me  in  the  lowest  pit,  in  darkness,  and  in  the  deeps.  *Thy 
wrath  lieth  hard  upon  me,  and  thou  hast  afflicted  me  with  all 
thy  waves." 

Every  bad  man,  who  is  insensible  to  this  incomprehensible  ca- 
lamity, is  merely  benumbed  like  the  half-frozen  wretch  ;  who,  on 
the  point  of  perishing,  resolves  to  fall  asleep,  and  can  by  no  mo- 
tives be  induced  to  an  effort  to  preserve  himself  from  sleeping ; 
although  the  very  moment  he  closes  his  eyes,  he  closes  them  in 
death.  So  great  and  dreadful  an  evil  is  the  anger  of  God,  that, 
beside  the  sin,  which  provokes  it,  nothing,  in  comparison  with  it 
ought  to  be  called  an  evil. 

3dly.  It  is  a  world  of  Enemies. 

These  enemies  are  found  in  every  place  and  among  persons  of 
every  description  ;  among  strangers  and  neighbours  ;  in  the  list 
of  those  who  have  been  our  friends ;  and  not  unfrequently  even 
in  our  own  households.  They  exist  at  all  times  even  when  as 
much  as  possible  we  live  in  peace  with  all  men.     When  we  arc 


280  LONG  LIFE  [SER.  XIX. 

for  peace,  others  will  be  for  war,  Childliood,  Youth,  Manhood, 
and  Old  Age  are  all  sufferers  by  their  attacks.  In  the  day  of 
prosperity  they  envy  our  blessings :  in  the  day  of  sorrow  they 
find  a  malignant  pleasure  in  our  distresses.  In  the  week  they  la- 
bour to  frustrate  our  plans,  and  to  prevent  the  success  of  our  ef- 
forts :  on  the  Sabbath,  they  question  the  truth  of  our  Bible,  laugh 
at  our  Religion,  insult  our  worship,  and  disturb  our  devotion. 

They  attack  us  with  every  weapon  ;  and  assail  us  in  every  vul- 
nerable part  of  our  well-being.  If  they  do  not  beat  and  wound 
us ;  they  cheat  us  out  of  our  property ;  stain  our  reputation ; 
hale  us  before  the  bar  of  justice  in  causeless  litigation  ;  alienate 
from  us  our  beloved  friends ;  frustrate  our  lawful  plans  of  busi- 
ness ;  rob  us  of  public  and  private  confidence  and  challenge  us 
to  the  field  of  death.  Beyond  this  they  lie  in  wait  for  our  souls, 
seduce  us  to  the  belief  of  ruinous  errors ;  obliterate  from  our 
minds  tenderness  of  conscience,  and  apprehensiveness  of  guilt 
and  danger  ;  varnish  crimes,  and  cover  them  with  beautiful  col- 
ours ;  entice  us  to  sin ;  take  us  by  the  hand,  and  lead  us  down 
to  the  chambers  of  death ;  and  murder  our  souls  throughout 
ete^'.ity. 

At  the  same  time,  they  are  enemies  always  active  and  always 
distressing.  From  some  or  other  of  them  we  are  ever  to  ex- 
pect attempts  on  our  welfare  ;  and  are  obliged  to  feel  ourselves 
never  safe. 

4thly.    This  worldis  filed  with  innumerable  other  evils. 

Want,  hunger,  thirst,  cold,  toil,  weariness,  anxiety,  disappoint- 
ment, despondency,  disease,  and  death,  hedge  the  path  of  man- 
kind ;  and  all  of  them  attack  many,  and  some  of  them  all,  men. 
The  best  health  is  liable  to  be  lost  by  disease  ;  and  the  most  se- 
cure property  by  a  flaw  in  a  title,  by  the  bankruptcy  of  others, 
by  accident,  by  the  tempest,  or  by  the  conflagration.  The  best 
laid  schemes  are  frequently  frustrated  by  unexpected  contingen- 
cies ;  and  by  the  ignorance,  sloth,  and  inattention,  of  those,  to 
whom  the  execution  of  them  is  committed.  A  voyage  is  render- 
ed fruitless,  or  ruinous,  by  the  unskillfulness  of  the  pilot,  or  the 
drunkenness  of  the  master,  or  of  the  seamen  ;  by  the  starting  of 


>-i:K.  XIX.]  NOT  DESIRABLE.  og  [ 

a  plank,  or  the  stroke  of  a  wave.  Despondency  breaks  our  ef- 
forts ;  disease  enervates  our  bodies ;  and  delirium  destroys  our 
reason.  Pain  excruciates,  the  asthma  enfeebles,  the  consump- 
tion with  a  lingering  death  destroys,  the  man.  Thus  the  world 
becomes  literally  a  valley  of  tears. 

A  virtuous  mind  is  also,  in  a  s(;nse  unceasingly,  wounded  by 
the  sins  of  others.  The  husband  is  not  unfrequently  obliged  to 
behold  his  wife,  the  partner  of  his  bosom,  and  the  most  intimate 
of  all  his  connections,  alienated  from  God  and  from  religion ;  a 
votary  to  show  and  amusement ;  wasting  her  life  on  trifles  ;  and 
advancing  to  eternity  without  a  hope.  The  wife  is  compelled  to 
see  her  husband  profane,  false,  faithless,  a  cheat,  a  gambler,  a  drun- 
kard, and  not  unfrequently  a  duellist  bathing  his  murderous  hands 
in  the  blood  of  his  friend.  The  child  is  compelled  to  behold  the 
parent,  who  gave  him  birth,  and  to  whom  the  only  instinctive 
regard  is  reverence  and  love,  deformed  by  vice,  and  degraded 
by  infamy.  The  parent  is  often  pierced  with  agony  by  the  sight 
of  a  graceless  child,  debased  by  falsehood,  undutifulness,  un- 
kindness,  and  impiety  ;  the  victim  of  seduction  ;  a  martyr  to  evil 
companions,  and  evil  communications  ;  deaf  to  reproof  and  ad- 
monition, to  conscience  and  to  God  ;  hopelessly  descending  in 
the  broad  and  crooked  road  5  and  hastening,  in  spite  of  his  pray- 
ers and  tears,  to  the  regions  of  endless  sin  and  final  perdition. 
The  friend  is  agonized  by  violated  faith,  treacherous  professions, 
broken  vows,  and  black  ingratitude.  The  Christian,  yearning 
with  benevolence  over  a  world  in  ruins,  is  pierced  with  anguish 
to  see  around  him  a  mere  place  of  graves ;  an  immense  church- 
yard, filled  with  living  corruption  and  moving  death  ;  where  spir- 
itual life,  the  beginning  of  life  eternal,  is  looked  for,  extensively, 
by  his  wearied,  longing,  lingering  eye  in  vain  ;  where  the  Son  of 
God  calls  with  infinite  tenderness  and  concern,  but  no  Lazarus 
comes  forth ;  where  Mercy  wanders,  and  searches,  and  pries,  to 
find  in  the  endless  train  of  walking  corpses  a  remaining  principle 
of  life ;  but  beholds  throughout  a  great  part  of  the  habitable 
world  nothing  but  despair,  desolation  and  death.  God  to  an 
immense  extent  is  forgotten,  as  if  the  world  had  been  made  by 


282  LONG  LIFE  [SER.  XIX. 

another  Creator,  as  if  suns  arose,  rain  descended,  and  seasons 
rolled  around  their  circuit,  under  the  control  of  another  Ruler  -,' 
and  as  if  man  derived  his  life,  his  breath,  and  all  his  blessings, 
from  some  other  Benefactor.  To  wealth,  to  pride,  to  pleasure, 
mankind  continually  say,  "  Deliver  us ;  for  ye  are  our  Gods," 
Christ  is  rejected,  despised,  and  trampled  under  foot  -,  as  if  some 
"  other  name"  beside  his  were  "  given  under  heaven  whereby 
men  must  be  saved  ;  as  if  some  other  lawgiver  had  prescribed 
the  rules  of  human  worship,  and  obedience ;  as  if  some  other 
Saviour  had  disclosed  the  way  to  endless  life ;  as  if  some  other 
being  had  become  a  propitiation  for  the  sins  of  men  ;  and  as  if 
some  other  Advocate  before  the  throne  of  infinite  justice  were 
effectually  pleading  for  the  divine  forbearance,  and  the  final  ac- 
ceptance of  sinners.  Heaven  is  shunned,  as  if  it  were  the  final 
residence  of  sin  and  suffering ;  and  hell  sought  with  eagerness 
and  perseverance,  as  if  the  river  of  life  flowed  from  its  desolate 
caverns,  and  the  tree  of  life  sprang  from  its  parched  soil.  Who, 
from  the  conduct  of  the  great  body  of  the  human  race,  would 
imagine  that  they  were  creatures  formed  by  Jehovah  ;  preserv- 
ed, sustained,  and  universally  blessed,  by  the  Infinite  hand ;  en- 
dued with  minds  destined  to  the  contemplation,  love  and  enjoy- 
ment of  eternal  beauty,  excellence,  and  glory ;  and  to  an  ever- 
lasting progress  in  loveliness  and  virtue  ? 

A  mind  really  benevolent  is  unavoidably  distressed  by  the  sight 
of  prevailing  degeneracy ;  the  decline  of  those,  about  whom  it 
has  entertained  hopes;  the  deplorable  choice  made  by  man,  of 
objects  in  which  he  hopes  to  find  good  ;  the  sordid  spirit,  with 
which  he  pursues  dross  and  dirt,  as  if  they  were  to  enrich  his 
mind  ;  his  childish  expectations  of  finding  happiness  in  bubbles, 
and  of  gaining  distinction  from  the  possession  of  straws  and 
feathers ;  the  debasement  of  his  understanding,  the  prostitution 
of  his  energy,  and  the  wanton,  causeless  sacrifice  of  his  immor- 
tal well-being.  A  world  in  sin  is  to  a  being,  truly  rational,  a 
forlorn  and  dreadful  object ;  a  lazar-house  of  disease  and  corrup- 
tion -,  a  dungeon  of  delirium  and  death. 


SER.  XIX.]  NOT  DESIRABLE.  283 

5thly.     A  longer  continuance  of  life  would  longer  deprive  good 
■nnn  of  a  better  life. 

So  long  as  good  men  continue  in  this  world,  they  are  subjec- 
ted, in  a  greater  or  less  degree,  to  all  the  evils  necessarily  inci- 
dent to  an  imperfect  nature,  and  an  imperfect  residence.  Their 
wisest  designs,  firmest  resolutions,  and  most  vigorous  efforts,  will 
be  at  least  partially  blasted.  Temptations  will  spring  up  where 
they  are  unforeseen ;  sins  will  creep  in  through  avenues,  where 
they  were  unexpected  ;  and  sorrow,  their  never  faihng  compan- 
ion, following  hard  behind  them,  will  enter  where  they  enter, 
and  dwell  where  they  reside.  The  best  life  presents  to  the  re- 
trospective eye  a  melancholy  picture,  on  which  it  gazes  with  re- 
probation, and  regret.  As  the  mind  advances  in  the  progress  of 
sanctification ;  its  views  of  sin,  and  duty,  become  continually 
more  clear,  just,  and  scriptural.  As  the  films  are  thus  gradu- 
ally removed  from  the  mental  eye ;  it  discerns  more  and  more  per- 
fectly the  reality,  the  number,  and  the  greatness,  of  its  offences : 
and  perceives  the  difference  between  what  it  is,  and  what  it 
4)ught  to  be,  continually,  and  increasingly  to  be  greater  than  it 
originally  mistrusted.  Hence  its  estimate  of  its  own  character 
is  less  and  less  favourable,  and  more  and  more  humiliating,  and 
painful.  \ 

When  the  good  man  casts  his  eyes  around  him,  he  finds  little 
to  relieve  his  wearied  mind,  and  wanders  ovef  this  world  in 
search  of  brighter  objects  in  vain.  Is  he  imperfectly  sanctified  ? 
So  are  others.  Is  he  a  mourner  in  Zion  ?  Others  find  abund- 
ant cause  for  similar  lamentation.  Is  the  presence  of  God,  are 
the  blessings  of  the  Spirit  of  Grace,  withholden  from  him  ?  Does 
he  search  with  an  anxious  and  doubtful  eye  for  supporting  evi- 
dence of  divine  love  to  his  soul  ?  Does  the  peace,  which  Christ 
gave  his  disciples,  instead  of  being  an  inmate,  become  only  a 
visitor,  in  his  bosom  ?  Does  the  joy  ^  which  no  stranger  meddles 
withal,  descend,  like  scanty  showers  in  a  season  of  drought  ?  All, 
even  the  best,  around  him  feel  the  same  evils  ;  and  are  ready  to 
unite  with  him  in  all  his  complaints. 


284  LONG  LIFE  [SER.  XIX. 

But  there  is  a  world,  where  these  evils  are  never  found  ;  a 
world,  to  which  his  own  path  has  been  steadily  pointed  ;  a  world 
in  which,  a  stranger  here,  he  has  long  expected  to  find  his  final 
home.  In  that  world  he  knows,  that  the  presence  of  God  is  un- 
clouded ;  his  blessing  never  withholden  ;  his  smile  never  with- 
drawn. There  temptation  and  sin  are  shut  out ;  and  all  the 
foundations  of  self-reproach,  disturbance  of  mind,  repentance, 
and  sorrow,  forever  excluded.  There  God  is  loved,  trusted,  and 
obeyed,  as  his  glorious  excellence  and  perfect  conduct,  reasona- 
bly demand,  with  all  the  heart.  There  no  friends  pierce  each 
others  hearts  with  degeneracy  ;  no  eye  drops  a  tear  over  falling 
or  backsliding  virtue  ;  no  bosom  is  torn  with  anxiety  concerning 
its  own  future  wanderings  from  the  path  of  rectitude.  "  The 
way  of  holiness"  is  there  indeed  "  a  high  way ;"  and  none  are  so 
unhappy,  as  to  "  err  therein."  Towards  that  world  the  good 
man  cannot  fail  often  to  turn  his  thoughts  ;  and  to  institute  a 
comparison  between  the  happy  state  of  its  inhabitants,  and  the 
imperfect,  erring,  suffering  condition  of  those,  who  dwell  below. 
In  his  pilgrimage  through  the  scorching  sands  and  houseless 
wilds  of  this  Arabian  waste,  he  cannot  fail  in  the  midst  of  his 
hunger  and  thirst,  his  weariness,  his  solitude  and  danger,  to  turn 
a  longing  wish  towards  the  region,  where  "  there  is  enough  and 
to  spare,"  of  the  bread  of  life,  and  where  "  fountains  of  living  wa- 
ters" flow  forever. 

A  longer  life  is  to  him  a  longer  exile  from  his  Father's  house, 
and  the  glorious  blessings  which  it  contains  ;  from  the  Redeem- 
er, who  died  for  him  ;  from  "  the  innumerable  company  of  An- 
gels," to  whom  he  is  intimately  allied  ;  and  from  "  the  church  of 
the  first  born,"  who  are  to  be  his  brethren  and  friends  forever. 

Nor  would  a  longer  continuance  of  life  be  a  blessing  to  im- 
penitent sinners ;  to  those,  I  mean,  who  at  the  end  of  the  pres- 
ent age  of  man  remain  impenitent.  He,  who  has  lived  seventy 
years  in  sin,  has  in  almost  every  instance  outhved  the  hopes  of 
repentance.  A  convert  at  the  age  of  threescore  and  ten  may 
perhaps  be  found  ;  but  he  is  almost  a  prodigy.  Every  sinner  in 
advanced  age  holds  out  to  the  eye  of  observation,  not  only  the 


SER.  XIX.]  NOT  DESIRABLE.  285 

painful  picture  of  long  continued  rebellion,  and  deep  declension, 
but  also  the  melancholy  image  of  hopeless  obduracy.  He  has 
so  long  walked  in  "  the  broad  and  crooked  road,"  that  without 
a  miracle  he  can  scarcely  find  his  way  back  to  life. 

But  every  child  of  Adam  is  to  be  "judged,  and  rewarded,  ac- 
cording to  the  deeds  done  in  the  body."  To  live,  therefore,  only 
to  accumulate  sin,  and  prepare  for  heavier  condemnation,  the 
only  real  consequence  to  the  gray-haired  impenitent  of  living 
beyond  the  established  date  of  man,  would  to  almost  every  hu- 
man being  be  so  far  from  being  desirable,  that  it  would  be  merely 
the  means  of  increasing  misery  throughout  eternity.  Who  would 
ask  to  have  his  life  lengthened,  with  this  dreadful  prospect  be- 
fore him  ? 

6thly.  A  long  life  would  take  away  from  mankind  the  chief 
Motives  to  Repentance  and  Reformation. 

Were  human  life  to  be  greatly  extended  ;  it  is  difficult  to  con- 
ceive of  any  motives,  which  could  be  successfully  urged,  to  awa- 
ken in  sinners  a  conviction  of  the  necessity  of  repentance,  the 
danger  of  delay,  and  the  importance  of  speedily  seeking  God, 
In  men,  secure  of  a  long  protracted  existence  in  this  world, 
what  avenue  could  be  found  for  efficacious  access  to  their  hearts  ? 
They  might  be  informed,  perhaps,  that  holiness  is  beautiful  and 
lovely  in  itself;  and  that  the  sanctified  mind  enjoys,  of  course, 
a  glorious  reward  in  the  exercise  of  its  own  amiable  affections, 
and  finds  sufficient  delight,  spontaneously  arising  from  the  con- 
sciousness of  performing  praiseworthy  actions.  But  how  could 
those  know  what  was  meant  by  the  beauty  and  loveliness  of  vir- 
tue, who  knew  not  what  virtue  itself  was  ?  The  very  nature  of 
this  celestial  attribute  can  be  known  only  by  experience.  No 
state,  no  exercise,  of  the  human  heart  can  be  so  described,  as. 
to  be  efficaciously  understood.  We  may,  indeed,  by  contempla- 
tion conceive,  or  by  description  be  informed,  what  is  meant  by 
sorrow  or  joy,  by  hope  or  fear,  by  love  or  hatred,  loosely  and, 
generally  ;  but  the  sensation  in  such  a  case  can  never  be  thor- 
oughly understood,  until  it  is  felt.  The  practical  nature  of  eve- 
ry thing,  which  is  practical,  is  incapable  of  being  learned,  un- 

VoL.  II.  -37 


286  LONG  LIFE  [SER.  XIX, 

less  when  experienced  by  ourselves.  Thus  Evangelical  love  to 
God  and  mankind  must  be  exercised,  in  order  to  be  realized. 
But  this  love  is  the  sum  of  virtue.  None  therefore,  who  are 
not  virtuous,  can  know  what  virtue  is ;  and  none,  but  they,  can 
discern  its  amiableness  and  beauty.  The  rewards  of  virtue,  also, 
are  furnished  only  by  the  exercise  of  virtue ;  and,  where  it  is  not 
exercised,  cannot  be  found.  Even  to  understand  them  in  any 
valuable  degree  it  is  absolutely  necessary,  that  we  should  pre- 
viously become  virtuous. 

To  address,  then,  these  motives  to  sinners,  in  order  to  per- 
suade them  to  become  holy,  would  be  to  address  to  them  that, 
which  they  do  not  know,  and  cannot  feel ;  or  in  other  words  that, 
which  to  them  is  literally  nothing.  To  this  hopeless  employment 
the  philosophers  of  Greece,  and  Rome^  addicted  themselves  with 
great  ingenuity  and  eloquence :  but  they  spoke  to  deaf  ears, 
and  immovable  hearts ;  and  among  all  who  listened  to  their  fine 
sentiments  and  elegant  diction,  with  admiration  and  applause, 
there  is  not  the  least  reason  to  believe,  that  they  reformed  even; 
a  single  individual. 

In  the  same  fruitless  manner  would  a  preacher  display  to  the 
understanding  of  sinners  the  glory,  virtue,  and  happiness,  of 
heaven.  Holiness,  the  well  spring  of  all  this  happiness  and  glo- 
ry, the  sinner  would  neither  understand  nor  feel.  A  cold  assent, 
that  such  a  place,  as  heaven  is  asserted  to  be  in  the  Scriptures,  may 
be  a  happy  place,  would  be  all  which  his  mind  would  really  give. 
A  heartfelt  conviction  of  the  necessity  of  holiness  to  real  and  en- 
during good,  he  would  still  be  incapable  of  feeling ;  but  without 
such  a  conviction  no  desire  could  be  excited  in  his  mind,  no  per- 
suasion operate,  no  effort  exist.  A  Mohammedan  paradise,  if 
he  could  be  assured  of  inhabiting  it  beyond  the  grave,  might  in- 
deed rouse  his  wishes,  and  his  labours ;  but  the  joys  of  heav- 
en would  be  proclaimed  to  an  assembly  of  sinners  with  much  the 
same  hope  of  success,  as  to  the  inhabitants  of  the  tomb. 

Danger,  suffering,  and  death,  the  terror  of  being  miserable  be- 
yond the  grave,  and  the  hope  of  escaping  that  misery,  are  the 
only  things,  which  ever  seriously  affect  a  sinning,  guilty  mind , 


SER.  XIX.]  NOT  DESIRABLE.  287 

and  are  therefore  the  only  things,  which,  in  ordinary  eases,  are 
efficaciously  preached  to  minds  of  this  character.  "  Knowing 
the  terrors  of  the  Lord,"  says  St.  Paul,  "  we  persuade  men  •," 
and  only  when  knowing  these  terrors  are  men  usually  persua- 
ded. 

But  how  could  these  motives  be  addressed  with  effect,  or  even 
with  hope,  to  men,  secure  of  life  for  a  thousand  years  ?  To  the 
human  eye  this  period  would  seem  a  kind  of  eternity.  Death 
and  judgment,  heaven  and  hell,  removed  beyond  this  period, 
would  be  removed  beyond  the  utmost  verg€  of  care  and  thought; 
and  recede  far  from  all  settled  belief,  if  not  from  the  doubtful  as- 
sent of  fear  and  hope.  Future  evil  at  such  a  distance  would  be 
no  longer  dreaded  ;  future  good  no  longer  desired.  Death  itself, 
though  certain  and  undeniable,  would  at  such  a  distance  cease 
to  alarm,  or  even  to  solemnize  ;  and  would  be  regarded  as  a  bug- 
bear ;  the  object  only  of  contempt  and  ridicule.  No  argument 
could  be  founded  on  it,  or  enforced  by  it,  which  could  be  brought 
home  to  the  heart ;  no  motive  derived  from  it,  to  impress  the  im- 
portance of  salvation,  or  the  reality  of  never  ending  being.  To 
all  inducements  to  consideration  on  these  subjects,  presented  to 
human  beings  in  such  a  situation,  the  answer  would  be  short  and 
final :  "  Where  is  the  promise  of  his  coming  ?  for,  since  the  fath- 
ers fell  asleep,  all  things  continue  as  they  were  at  the  beginning  of 
the  creation," 

This  single  fact  v^^ould  change  essentially  the  whole  system  of 
Providence,  and  in  some  respects  the  whole  character  of  man. 
A  future  state  either  of  rewards  or  punishments  would  be  trium- 
phantly denied;  and  all,  who  believed  it,  placed  on  the  same  level 
with  the  advocates  for  the  warnings  of  the  deathwatch,  and  the 
existence  of  witchcraft.  "  Death  an  eternal  sleep"  would  be  en- 
graved on  the  gate  posts  of  every  churchyard  ;  and  become  the 
creed  of  every  tongue.  To  the  wanderings  of  human  opinion 
there  would  be  neither  check,  nor  end.  Whatever  philosophical 
theory  could  devise  ;  whatever  sin  could  rehsh  ;  whatever  willing 
credulity  could  swallow  ;  would  be  proudly  taught,  and  eagerly 
believed.     Animal  enjoyment  would  be  the  amount  of  all  ae- 


288  LONG  LIFE  [8ER.  XIX- 

knowledged  human  good,  and  the  end  of  every  human  effort. 
The  favourite  maxim  by  which  it  is  now  governed,  would,  how- 
ever, be  reversed.  It  would  not  be  as  now,  "  Let  us  eat  and 
drink  for  to-morrow  we  die  ;"  for  death  would  be  disregarded, 
and  forgotten  :  but,  "  Let  us  eat  and  drink  ;  for  to-morrow  shall 
be  as  this  day,  and  much  more  abundant." 

Should  any  person  question  the  correctness  of  this  representa- 
tion ;  I  am  furnished  with  unanswerable  proof  of  its  truth.  Noah 
preached  for  one  hundred  and  twenty  years  to  audiences  in  this 
very  condition.  1  need  not  tell  you,  that  he  preached  in  vain  ; 
so  in  absolutely  vain,  that  he  made  not  a  single  convert  to  truth 
and  righteousness. 

7thly.  Life^  greatly  extended^  woidd  be  undesirable  to  man, 
because  it  would  produce  pernicious  Consequences  to  the  world 
at  large. 

From  the  general  tendency  of  human  nature,  which  is  thor- 
oughly known  by  the  experience  of  ages,  we  may  easily  deter- 
mine with  sufficient  accuracy  the  real  influence,  which  a  long 
protraction  of  life  must  necessarily  have  on  the  general  interests 
of  mankind.  No  person  can  doubt,  that  the  extension  of  life 
would,  of  course,  enlarge  proportionally  all  the  plans  formed  by 
men  for  business,  or  for  pleasure.  The  schemes  of  accumulating 
wealth,  of  acquiring  renown,  of  amassing  power,  of  compassing 
superiority,  would  all  grow  with  the  extension  of  years.  The 
design  in  the  mind  of  every  sagacious  and  enterprising  man,  in- 
stead of  being  limited  by  the  narrow  bounds  which  now  encircle 
all  human  eftbrts,  and,  like  those  of  the  ocean,  say  to  every  pur- 
pose, "  Hitherto  shalt  thou  come  and  no  further ;"  would  become 
a  vast  outline,  to  be  filled  up  by  the  efforts  of  centuries  succee- 
ding centuries.  The  disappointments  of  one  age  would  be  con- 
fidently expected  to  find  a  balance  in  the  more  auspicious  events 
of  another ;  defeat  would  be  consoled  with  the  sanguine  expec- 
tation of  a  future  triumph ;  and  loss  be  firmly  borne  under  the 
assurance  of  future  gain.  No  enterprise  which  did  not  overstep 
the  bounds  of  earth,  would  be  thoftght  too  great  to  be  formed  by 
the  ardent  projector,  nor  to  be  executed  by  the  hand  of  courage. 


SER.  XIX.]  NOT  DESIRABLE.  2S9 

patience,  and  perseverance.  The  defects,  which  time  might  discov- 
er, experience  would  supply.  The  errors,  into  which  inattention 
might  be  betrayed,  caution,  improved  by  succeeding  skill,  would 
correct.  Ingenuity,  sharpened  by  long  continued  application, 
emboldened  by  frequent  success,  and  ardent  in  the  prospect  of 
vast  acquisitions  ;  would  repair  every  disaster,  a.nd  remove  every 
obstacle. 

With  these  advantages,  to  what  a  height  would  rise  the  la- 
bours and  acquisitions  of  man  ?  During  the  present,  limited  pe- 
riod of  human  life,  a  single  individual  has  often  amassed  millions. 
Could  the  same  protection  be  afforded  him,  what  would  be  the 
accumulation  of  the  same  individual  through  a  thousand  years  ? 
His  coffers,  like  an  abyss,  would  engulf  the  wealth  of  empires. 
Vast  riches  always  spread  around  their  possessor  vast  and  multi- 
plied poverty.  With  what  a  desert  of  want  and  misery  would 
he,  who  had  engrossed  wealth  for  centuries,  and  raised  it  to  the 
height  of  mountains,  environ  his  dwelling  ? 

Heroes  fight  alike  for  glory,  and  for  power.  Alexandei\  Caesar, 
and  Tamerlane^  within  a  little  part  of  our  present  life  subjugated, 
successively,  a  great  proportion  of  the  known  world.  Had  the 
lives  of  these  men  been  extended  to  the  antediluvian  length  ; 
the  world  must  have  bowed  to  their  yoke,  and  trembled  to  its  ut- 
most shores,  beneath  the  iron  rod  of  their  power.  What  armies 
would  they  have  assembled  ?  Like  that  of  Gog^  described  by  the 
prophet  Ezekiel,  they  would  have  "  ascended  like  a  storm,  and 
like  a  cloud"  have  "  covered  the  breadth  of  the  earth."  What 
battles  would  they  have  fought,  when  the  millions  following  their 
standards,  met  in  conflict !  W^hat  victories  would  they  have 
achieved !  How  many  and  how  vast  regions  would  they  have 
drenched  in  blood,  covered  with  the  corpses,  and  whitened  with 
the  bones  of  men  !  Within  ten  years  a  single  man,  of  obscure 
origin,  reduced  one  third  part  of  Europe  under  his  feet.  Had 
his  life  been  extended  through  a  thousand  years  ;  all  the  human 
race  would,  not  improbably,  have  crouched  in  iron  bondage  be- 
neath his  sceptre ;  and  all  their  blessings  been  wrenched  from 
tjiem  to  swell  his  grandeur,  and  to  gorge  his  voracious  demand 
for  pleasure. 


290  LONG  LIFE  LSER.  XIX. 

In  the  mean  time,  to  what  a  depth  of  degeneracy,  and  pollu- 
tion, would  mankind  sink  in  sensuality  ?  Restraint  from  principle 
would  be  removed  by  the  doctrines  of  Atheism  ;  restraint  from 
fear  would  vanish  before  the  assurance  of  living  through  an  im- 
mense succession  of  ages,  restraint  from  shame  would  expire 
amid  the  general  hatred  of  duty,  and  the  universal  encourage- 
ment of  example.  All  mankind  would,  therefore,  be  let  loose  to 
revel  and  to  riot.  From  one  end  of  heaven  to  the  other  the  soul 
of  man  would  sink  to  the  level  of  animal  existence  ;  and  hail  the 
sloth  and  the  swine,  as  its  companions  and  brethren.  A  Sodom 
would  rise  in  every  climate,  and  in  every  field ;  and  "  ten  right- 
eous men"  would  not  be  found  to  save  a  world. 

Of  all  these  awful  and  debasing  things  we  are  furnished  with 
the  most  ample  proof  from  unquestionable  fact.  The  Antedilu- 
vianS  ihn^  lived,  and  thus  acted.  "  The  sons  of  God,"  we  are 
told,  "  saw  the  daughters  of  men,  that  they  were  fair  ;  and  they 
took  them  wives,  of  all  whom  they  chose."  Of  this  loose  and 
lewd  mixture  were  born  "  giants,  who  became  mighty  men,"  and 
who  were  in  that  day  "  men  of  renown."  As  the  immediate 
consequence  it  followed,  that  "  God  saw,  that  the  wickedness  of 
man  was  great,  and  that  every  imagination,"  i.  e.  every  purpose 
and  design,  "  of  the  thoughts  of  his  heart  were  only  evil  contin- 
ually :  so  evil,  so  abandoned,  that  "  it  repented  the  Lord,  that  he 
had  made  man  on  the  earth,  and  it  grieved  him  at  his  heart.  The 
earth  also  was  corrupt  before  God  ;  and  the  earth  was  filled  with 
violence  ;  and  God  looked  upon  the  earth ;  and,  behold,  it  was 
corrupt ;  for  all  flesh  had  corrupted  his  way  on  the  earth."  Here 
is  a  concise,  but  strong  and  finished  picture  of  the  entire  profliga- 
cy of  the  human  race,  and  their  utter  abandonment  of  all  prin- 
ciple, and  all  decency.  "  All  flesh  had  corrupted  his  way  ;"  was 
lewd,  sensual,  brutal :  "  the  earth  was  filled  with  violence,"  i.  e. 
as  the  word  is  explained,  with  vengeance,  fraud,  rapine,  and  op- 
pression :  and  those,  who  were  the  great,  the  leaders  in  this  pro- 
fligacy, "  were  giants,"  fierce,  tyrannical,  men  of  oppression  and 
of  blood,  and  for  these  very  reasons  "men  of  renown."  So  pol- 
luted did  the  world  in  a  short  time  become,  that  "  God  repented, 


.SER.  XIX.]  NOT  DESIRABLE.  291 

that  he  had  made  man  ;  and  brought  upon  the  world  a  flood  of 
waters,  whereby  the  world  that  then  was,"  except  eight  persons, 
perished.  Such  was  the  result  of  one  trial ;  such  unquestionably 
would  be  the  issue  of  another. 

REMARKS. 

1  St.  From  these  observations  we  derive  complete  proof  of  the 
wisdom  of  God  in  limiting  human  life  by  its  present  bounds. 

There  are  few  dispensations,  so  naturally  mysterious  and  per- 
plexing, in  a  world  formed  by  the  Author  of  life  and  perfection, 
as  Death.  The  whole  explanation  of  this  strange  and  melan- 
choly event  is  furnished  only  by  the  moral  character  of  man. 
We  see,  in  the  observations  already  made,  abundant  reasons  why 
he  should  be  removed  from  the  present  world ;  since  his  contin- 
uance in  it  would  be  ruinous  to  himself,  and  to  his  fellow^ftien. 
We  are  also  presented  by  them  with  abundant  reasons  why  he 
should  be  removed  after  a  short  continuance  here,  rather  than  af- 
ter a  longer  one ;  and  why  he  should  be  removed  in  a  gloomy 
and  painful,  rather  than  in  a  joyful  and  triumphant,  manner. 
Death,  the  last  act  of  Providence  towards  man  in  the  present 
world,  is,  and  ought  to  be,  a  solemn  testimony  of  God  against 
human  corruption.  Were  we  universally  to  go  from  the  world, 
as  Enoch  and  Elijah  went ;  the  terror  of  death  would  cease ; 
for  it  would  be  concluded,  and  with  strong  probability,  that  with 
all  our  corruption  we  were  regarded  by  God  with  favour,  and 
destined  to  a  prosperous  future  being.  Were  our  life  extended 
to  the  antediluvian  date  ;  men  would  universally  assume  the  an- 
tediluvian character  ;  and  the  world  be  filled  with  the  antediluvi- 
an vice  and  corruption.  Men  are  noiv,  at  least,  sufficiently  sinful ; 
sufficiently  deaf  to  the  voice  of  mercy ;  sufficiently  blind  to  their 
own  good ;  sufficiently  hardened  against  warning,  reproof,  and 
reformation.  Then,  the  mental  eye  would  be  closed  in  absolute 
darkness,  and  the  heart  be  changed  into  adamant.  No  argu- 
ment would  persuade  ;  no  warning  alarm  ;  no  reproof  reclaim  ; 
and  no  reformation  be  found. 


292  LONG  LIFE  NOT  DESIRABLE.  [SER.  XIX. 

We  naturally  love  life  ;  and  at  every  period  instinctively  wish 
to  live  longer.  But  reason  here  clearly  decides,  that  it  would  be 
really  undesirable  to  extend  our  earthly  being  beyond  the  present 
boundary ;  that  God  in  fixing  it  has  manifested  his  supreme  wis- 
dom and  goodness ;  and  that  the  dispensation,  though  unwel- 
come to  us,  is  established  in  a  manner  far  better  than  that  which 
would  accord  with  our  wishes. 

2dly.  We  also  learn  the  wisdom,  and  the  necessity  of  employ- 
ing this  short  life  in  acquiring  a  life  which  is  eternal. 

Immortality  is  necessarily  the  object  of  earnest  desire  to  every 
intelligent,  and  would  be  if  he  could  form  the  thought,  to  every 
percipient,  being.  It  was  the  actual  and  glorious  lot  of  our  first 
parents.  It  may  be  the  lot  of  every  one  of  us.  A  short  period, 
a  limited  life,  is  the  only  period  during  which  we  can  obtain  it. 
This  very  consideration  demands  of  us  the  utmost  anxiety  and 
diligence.  The  death  also,  which  we  must  all  undergo,  enfor- 
ces strongly  with  its  painful  and  distressing  circumstances  this 
powerful  argument.  Like  a  beacon,  lighted  up  with  an  eternal 
fire  on  a  height  visible  to  all  the  nations  of  men,  it  solemnly  warns 
us  of  the  evils  to  which  we  are  exposed,  and  of  which  to  all  the 
impenitent  it  is  itself  the  beginning.  We  need  thus  to  be  warned. 
If  we  are  wise,  we  shall  welcome  the  alarm  ;  and,  beholding  the 
Sun  of  life  hastening  through  the  heavens,  shall  "  do,  while  the 
day  lasts,  whatsoever  our  hand  findeth  to  do  with  our  might ;" 
and,  to  quicken  our  diligence,  shall  cast  a  constant  and  appre- 
hensive eye  toward  the  rapid  approach  of  that  night  in  ichich  no 
man  can  work.  Instead  of  wishing  to  live  longer,  we  shall  labour 
to  live  better.  Instead  of  vainly  panting  for  immortal  being  in  a 
world  of  sin  and  sorrow,  where  we,  together  with  others,  should 
only  sin  and  suffer ;  we  should  bend  all  our  efforts,  to  find  it  in  that 
glorious  world,  where  it  can  be  actually  found ;  and  where  its 
ages  roll  on  in  the  "  fulness  of  joy,  and  pleasures  forevermore/' 


SERMON  XX. 

THE  RICH  MAN  AND  LAZARUS. 

Luke  xvi.  26. 

And  besides  all  this  between  us  and  you  there  is  a  great  gulf 
Jixed:  so  that  they  which  would  pass  from  hence  to  you,  cannot : 
neither  can  they  pass  to  us,  that  would  come  from  thence. 

The  design  of  the  parable,  from  which  the  text  is  taken,  is  to 
shew  the  dangerous  influence  of  wealth  and  luxury ;  and  the  su- 
periority of  the  most  abject  poverty,  when  connected  with  piety, 
to  all  worldly  gratifications.  The  rich,  the  proud,  and  the  splen- 
did, are  designed  to  be  here  alarmed  and  warned ;  the  poor  and 
forsaken,  to  be  comforted  and  encouraged.  The  parable  is  also 
filled  with  a  great  variety  of  evangelical  doctrines ;  almost  as  ma- 
ny as  it  contains  words.  All  these  are  exhibited  in  a  most  dis- 
tinct light  by  the  contrast  which  is  studiously  maintained  between 
the  several  parts  of  the  parable,  as  well  as  between  the  two  prin- 
cipal characters  which  are  exhibited  in  it. 

It  is  the  design  of  the  present  discourse,  to  consider  the  con- 
trast between  the  situation  of  Dives  and  that  of  Lazarus ;  both  in 
the  present,  and  in  the  future,  world. 

Between  the  circumstances  of  these  individuals  the  difference 
was  immense. 

Dives  was  in  this  world  rich,  honourable,  and  externally  happy ; 
while  Lazarus  was  poor,  despised,  and  externally  wretched.  Be- 
yond the  grave  the  condition  of  both  was  utterly  reversed. 

I  shall  consider 

L  The  Circumstances  of  Dives,  in  his  two  different  states  of 
existence. 

Vol.  II.  38 


294  THE  RICH  MAN  [SER.  XX, 

In  this  world,  Dives  was  possessed 

1st.   Of  an  abundance  of  earthhj  good. 

He  had  great  wealth.  This  doubtless  was  of  the  same  kind 
with  the  wealth  of  that  country,  at  the  present  time  ;  and  con- 
sisted, among  other  things,  of  lands,  houses,  cattle,  silver,  gold, 
gems,  servants,  and  apparel.  This  great,  proud,  luxurious  man 
may  naturally  be  supposed  to  have  delighted  in  walking  over  his 
possessions,  and  in  surveying  his  lands  and  houses  ;  in  admiring 
the  fertility  of  the  one,  and  the  elegance  and  splendour  of  the 
other.  It  may  be  easily  believed,  that  he  delighted  to  see  the 
number  and  labours  of  his  servants,  and  the  increase  of  his  prop- 
erty by  their  industry.  We  cannot  doubt  that  he  loved  to  count 
his  money,  and  to  calculate  his  gains.  All  worldly  men  do  this. 
He  probably  did  it  with  the  same  pleasure  and  exultation  which 
is  experienced  by  others. 

2dly.  He  knew  how  to  enjoy  this  abundance,  according  to  (he 
usual  meaning  of  this  phraseology. 

He  did  not  amass  riches  for  their  own  sake,  but  for  the  sake  of 
enjoying  them.  He  was  clothed  in  purple  and  fine  hnen  ;  at  that 
time  the  dress  of  nobles  and  princes  ;  and  of  them  only.  Here 
softness  and  splendour  were  united  ;  and  both  contributed  to  en- 
hance and  variegate  enjoyment.  It  seems  indeed  that  he  did  not 
deny  himself  any  enjoyments :  but  meant  to  live  while  here,  and 
to  let  posterity  take  care  of  itself,  and  futurity  bring  with  it  what 
it  might.  He  also  fared  sumptuously  :  he  ate  and  drank  to  the 
full  the  richest  and  most  dainty  viands  ;  and  these  were  supplied 
to  him  every  day.  Thus  it  appears  that  his  life  was  a  life  of  uni- 
form abundance  and  enjoyment,  and  was  varied  by  diversities  of 
pleasure  only. 

3dly.  He  was  probably,  so  far  as  pertains  to  human  nature  in 
these  circumstances,  possessed  of  entire  ease  of  mind. 

There  is  no  reason  to  believe,  that  he  was  at  all  disturbed  by 
considerations  of  futurity  or  by  any  anxiety  about  the  present. 
Let  useat  and  drink :  to  morrow  shall  be  as  this  day  and  much 
more  abundant:  were  probably  the  maxims  by  which  he  regulated 
his  life  and  enjoyments.    Death  seems  to  have  disturbed  him  little. 


SER.  XX.]  AND  LAZARUS.  295 

if  at  alK  Eternity  we  may  believe  affected  him  still  less.  Of 
Eternity,  tiie  Judgment,  and  the  Recompense  of  reward,  he 
probably  believed  nothing.  Death  by  him,  was  perhaps  regar- 
ded as  an  Eternal  Sleep  ;  as  it  is  generally  by  modern  infidels. 
His  life  was  plainly  that  of  a  mere  animal.  His  death  was,  there- 
fore, naturally  believed  by  him  to  be  that  of  an  animal,  also. 

It  would  seem,  that  he  was  a  Sadducee.  His  mode  of  life  ac- 
cords only  with  the  doctrines  of  that  sect  of  the  Jews.  If  this  be 
a  just  opinion,  it  is  certain,  that  he  believed  neither  in  the  exist- 
ence of  Angel  nor  Spirit ;  neither  in  a  Resurrection,  nor  in  a  state 
of  reward.  In  the  spirit  of  a  modern  infidel  he  boldly  denied  ev- 
ery thing,  which  pertained  to  future  and  endless  being,  to  the 
judgment  and  eternity,  to  heaven  and  hell. 

At  the  fears  of  such  poor  and  pitiful  wretches  as  Lazarus,  he 
doubtless  laughed  with  many  an  ingenious  jest,  and  many  a  cut- 
ting sarcasm.  Their  cowardly  apprehensions  of  a  future  world, 
a  world  of  retribution  too,  he  magnanimously  despised  ;  and  tri- 
umphed in  his  own  independence  of  thought,  raised  above  the 
superstition  of  nurses,  and  bigots,  and  fanatics,  who  were  held  by 
their  fears  in  a  constant  and  miserable  bondage.  His  own  pas- 
sions and  appetites,  he  knew,  were  all  natural,  and  were  doubtless 
given  only  to  be  gratified.  Whatever  was  natural,  was  doubtless 
lawful ;  and  whatever  was  in  itself  good,  was  unquestionably  de- 
signed to  be  enjoyed.  "  Let  the  miserable  beings,"  he  may  be 
imagined  to  say,  "  who  know  no  better,  tremble,  and  pray,  and 
destroy  all  the  comforts  of  their  fives,  by  the  bugbear  terrors  of 
futurity.  God  made  me,  if  I  was  made  at  all,  to  be  happy ;  and 
he  has  amply  provided  me  with  the  means  of  being  so.  I  shall 
not  abuse  his  bounty  by  refusing  to  taste  and  enjoy,  nor  by  trem- 
bling to  taste,  the  good  which  he  has  given.  Certainly  the 
Creator,  if  he  be  a  benevolent  being,  cannot  grudge  his  crea- 
tures the  enjoyment  of  the  good  which  he  has  himself  given.  The 
bounties  of  his  providence  were  never  intended  to  be  lost  in  self- 
denial  and  fasting.  The  roses  blossom,  to  be  seen  and  relished. 
I  will  pluck  them,  ere  they  wither." 

Like  other  Infidels,  both  speculative  and  practical,  he  could 


'2d6  THE  RICH  MAN  [SER.  XX. 

probably  reason  learnedly  on  accountableness,  and  prove  that 
man  is  a  machine ;  that  all  his  volitions  are  governed  irresistibly 
by  motives  ;  that  those  motives  are  presented  to  him  vv'ithout  his 
contrivance,  or  concurrence  ;  and,  therefore,  that  all  his  actions 
are  necessary  and  mechanical.  Of  course,  they  are  neither  right 
nor  wrong,  neither  good  nor  evil.  It  is  indeed  probable,  that  at 
times  he  complained,  like  other  such  men,  of  the  faults  and  sins 
of  his  servants  ;  and  that  he  cursed  them  for  their  omissions 
of  duty,  and  their  trespasses  on  his  property  and  convenience. 
He  may  also,  have  followed  the  customs  of  the  age,  and  at  times 
whipped  and  tortured  them,  for  their  crimes,  as  he  himself  styled 
them.  But,  whatever  was  the  case  with  servants,  and  how- 
ever wicked  they  might  be,  or  however  accountable  to  him  ;  he 
certainly  was  not  accountable  to  God,  nor  capable  of  being  a  sin- 
ner. A  saint  he  never  pretended  nor  wished  to  be.  Upon  the 
whole,  he  was  satisfied  with  his  allotments  in  life ;  and  he  pre- 
sumed that  God,  who  gave  them,  would,  and  must,  be  satisfied 
also. 

If  men  lived  beyond  the  grave,  he  had  concluded,  and  in  his 
own  view  proved,  that  they  must  be  happy.  Otherwise  God 
must  be  unjust  and  malevolent.  This,  all  men  denied,  as  well  as 
himself:  the  consequence  therefore  must  be  admitted. 

Around  his  board,  as  around  those  of  others  of  the  same  character 
and  condition,  there  doubtless  swarmed  a  multitude ;  who  were  buz- 
zing in  the  sunshine  of  opulence,  and  feasting  on  the  honey  which 
it  yielded.  All  these  united  in  approving  his  arguments,  applaud- 
ing his  ingenuity,  and  adopting  without  a  question  his  conclu- 
sions. These  were  all  equally  necessary  and  comforting  to  them, 
as  to  him.  None  therefore  called  them  in  question  ;  but  all  uni- 
ted to  confirm  him  in  the  conviction,  that  his  doctrines  were  cer- 
tain, and  his  arguments  unanswerable. 

Nor  was  he  probably  less  persuasive  on  other  favourite  topics 
of  Infidelity.  The  want  of  chastity  he  could  prove,  like  Hume 
to  be,  when  known,  of  little  consequence  ;  and,  when  unknown, 
to  be  nothing.  Adultery  he  could  exhibit  also,  like  Hume  and 
Bolingbroke,  as  not  forbidden  by  the  law  of  nature,  and  as  ne- 


SER.  XX.]  AND  LAZARUS.  297 

cessary  to  the  real  enjoyment  of  life.  The  innocence  of  Gam- 
bling and  Profaneness  he  could  display  with  arguments,  fraught 
with  the  same  ingenuity  and  conviction  ;  and  when  argument 
failed  could  rout  his  antagonists  with  a  jest,  applauded  of  course 
by  all  his  dependents  and  associates  in  pleasure. 

Thus  he  withheld  not  his  heart  from  any  joy.  Life  was  to  him 
a  period  of  sunshine,  and  a  circuit  of  vernal  seasons  only.  Light 
and  gaiety,  verdure  and  bloom,  abundance  and  pleasure,  frolic- 
some companions  and  laughing  amusements  ;  were  his  constant 
round  of  happy  existence.  Every  day  brought  its  brilliancy 
and  its  enjoyments.  Every  sun  rolled  round  only  a  succession  of 
good.  In  his  bosom  conscience,  early  silenced  and  finally  dis- 
couraged, ceased  to  reprove  ;  and,  during  his  life,  no  gloomy 
preacher  or  melancholy  enthusiast  embittered  happiness  by  un- 
seasonable and  unwelcome  suggestions  concerning  sin,  or  judg- 
ment, or  future  retribution. 

But  in  the  midst  of  this  joyous  career,  Death  pointed  the  fatal 
arrow  at  his  heart.  His  wealth,  his  grandeur,  his  gaiety,  his 
sports,  his  flatterers,  his  physicians  ;  could  not  defend  him  from 
this  conflict,  nor  prevent  his  fall.  Perhaps  his  stupidity  and  gross- 
ness  of  mind  continued  to  the  last ;  and  he  died,  as  he  had  lived, 
a  brute.  Perhaps,  like  many  other  proud,  hardened,  and  guilty 
wretches,  he  awaked  on  a  dying  bed  to  sense  and  reason,  for  the 
first  time ;  and  now  found,  that  all  his  former  conduct  was  mad- 
ness, that  his  pleasures  were  nothing,  and  that  his  dangers  were 
real  and  dreadful.  Now,  perhaps  for  the  first  time,  he  began  to 
feel  that  he  was  dependent  on  God,  and  accountable  to  him. 
Now,  perhaps,  he  made  the  first  essay  towards  a  prayer.  But 
the  day  of  grace  was  past  to  him.  His  prayers  were  the  cries  of 
hardened  guilt,  extorted  by  danger  and  fear  ;  and  they  were  dis- 
regarded and  rejected  !  The  Mercy  he  had  so  long  slighted  and 
so  impiously  mocked,  now  laughed  at  his  calamity,  and  mocked 
when  his  fear  came.  He  called,  but  God  would  not  answer :  he 
stretched  out  his  hand,  but  God  would  not  regard. 

At  Death  his  situation  was  in  all  respects  reversed, 

1st.  He  was  disembodied. 


298  THE  RICH  MAN  [SER.  XX. 

All  his  pleasures  in  this  life  came  lo  him  through  the  body. 
They  were  all  pleasures  of  sense,  and  arose  from  animal  indul- 
gence. They  consisted  in  pampering  the  lust  of  the  flesh,  in  sa- 
tiating the  lust  of  the  eyes,  and  in  fulfilling  the  demands  of  the 
pride  of  life.  Eating  and  drinking,  sloth  and  lewdness,  wealth 
and  splendour,  gaiety  and  amusement;  were  his  whole  list  of 
enjoyments;  the  amount  of  all  which  he  considered  as  real  good.  , 

But  his  Body  was  now  gone.     His  face  and  limbs,  so  delicate*  1 
ly  fed  and  adorned,  were  turned  into  a  pale  and  lifeless  corpse, 
divested  of  all  its  former  beauty  and  splendour,  and  clothed  with 
deformity  and  corruption.     The  form,  which  he  once  idolized, 
was  now  carried  out  of  the  palace  which  it  so  long  and  so  proud- 1 
ly  inhabited,  and  laid  in  the  solitary  grave.     There  it  was  proved  : 
to  have  been  pampered  only  for  the  feast  of  worms.     Worms 
were  now  its  only  companions,  and  reigned  over  the  great  and 
proud  man  with  absolute  dominion.     All,  that  remained  of  him, 
was  turned  into  dust,  undistinguishable  from  the  earth  around 
him. 

2dly.  He  was  now  in  the  absolute  want  of  all  things. 

As  his  body  had  been  the  means  of  all  his  enjoyments ;  with  ] 
its  destruction  all  his  enjoyments  vanished.  In  the  vast  universe  ■ 
lie  could  find  nothing,  which  he  could  call  his  own.  All  was  a  I 
wide  and  solitary  waste ;  where  no  good  sprang  up,  no  spring  of  3 
pleasure  flowed,  and  no  living  verdure  rose.  An  Arabian  desert,  ■ 
boundless  and  hopeless,  it  presented  nothing  to  his  eye  but  bar- 
renness and  death. 

3dly.  He  was  despised. 

In  the  future  world  the  treasures  of  the  mind  only  make  rich  ; 
and  the  dignity  of  the  mind  only  confers  honour.  Of  these  treas- 
ures he  had  none.  Of  course  he  was  wholly  destitute  of  the  means 
of  conferring  enjoyment  on  others.  He  was  unable  to  befriend 
any ;  and  wanted  therefore  the  means  of  awakening  gratitude,  or 
creating  dependence  ;  of  engaging  flatterers,  or  securing  services. 
The  respect  and  deference,  produced  by  afliuence  and  splendour, 
he  could  not  command  ;  because  he  possessed  nothing.  Personal 
worth  he  had  none.    Of  course  he  could  not  be  respected.     The 


SER.  XX.]  AND  LAZARUS.  299 

attributes  and  actions  which  commanded  respect,  he  had  always 
I  despised  and  rejected.  On  the  contrary  he  chose  a  character,  in 
itself  contemptible  ;  and  he  scorned  and  loathed  all  real  dignity. 
He  could  claim,  therefore,  no  regard  for  what  he  was,  or  what  he 
possessed.  As  all  this  was  the  result  of  his  own  choice,  he  ap- 
peared only  as  a  madman  and  a  profligate  ;  and  he  was  of  course 
regarded  only  with  scorn  and  derision.  The  contempt,  with 
which  he  had  formerly  treated  all  good  men,  now  rebounded  on 
his  own  head.  Eye  he  had,  in  this  respect,  paid  to  him  for  an 
eye,  and  tooth  for  a  tooth  ;  and  his  gross  conduct  to  others,  cause- 
less and  insolent,  was  now  repaid  sevenfold. 

4thly.  He  was  miserable. 

All  his  good  things,  the  whole  stock  destined  for  him  through- 
out eternity,  he  had  received  in  this  life.  Like  a  giddy  prodigal 
he  had  spent  his  whole  estate  ;  and  he  was  now  a  bankrupt 
forever.  He  was  dreadfully  disappointed  of  all  his  expecta- 
tions. He  had  fully  intended,  and  firmly  resolved,  not  to  6e,  be- 
yond the  grave.  But  in  spite  of  himself  he  existed.  He  had  as 
firmly  resolved,  if  he  should  exist,  to  be  happy ;  and  had  often 
proved  to  himself  and  to  his  companions,  that  God  could  not, 
consistently  with  his  character,  make  him  unhappy. 

In  hell  he  was  forced  to  reside  ;  and  there  he  was  tormented 
by  all  the  ingredients  of  misery.  The  world  of  woe  spread  im- 
mensely before  his  sight ;  and  through  its  melancholy  regions  he 
was  now  beginning  an  everlasting  journey.  All  around  him  was 
dreary  and  desolate  :  all  before  him  was  forlorn  and  dreadful. 
He  was  without  friends,  without  enjoyments,  and  without  hope. 
He  confesses  himself  to  be  friendless  in  the  world  where 
he  dwelt ;  for  he  appeals  not  to  any  of  his  companions,  but 
to  Lazarus  and  to  Abraham,  for  relief.  In  the  request  which 
he  makes  to  them,  he  also  declares  himself  to  be  utterly  destitute 
of  enjoyments  ;  for  he  asks  for  the  least  of  all  enjoyments  only  ; 
and  even  this  was  denied. 

He  saw  at  the  same  time  Lazarus,  in  heaven,  in  the  bosom  of 
Abraham  ;  the  man,  whom  above  all  others  he  pitied  and  despis- 
ed, as  the  wretch  pre-eminently  outcast  from  heaven,  and  forgot- 


300  THE  RICH  MAN  [SER.  XX 

ten  and  miserable  in  this  world.  To  this  forsaken  wretch,  who, 
a  few  days  before,  had  desired  to  be  fed  from  the  crumbs  which 
fell  from  his  own  table,  he  now  becomes  a  suppliant  for  a  single 
drop  of  water.  This  prayer  he  found  with  full  conviction  could 
not  be  granted  ;  and  the  refusal  put  an  end  to  his  hopes  and  )jms 
prayei*s  forever. 

I  shall  now  consider, 

II.  The  Circumstances  of  Lazarus  ;  in  the  present  world,  and 
in  the  future. 

In  this  world,  Lazarus  was 

1  St.  In  a  state  of  the  most  abject  poverty. 

He  was  a  beggar,  proverbially  the  poorest  of  mankind,  and 
perfectly  destitute  of  property  ;  of  comforts  and  necessaries  alike. 
He  was  poor,  even  for  a  beggar  ;  and  in  want  of  those  things, 
which  beggars  usually  obtain.  He  desired  to  be  fed  from  the 
crumbs,  which  fell  from  the  rich  man's  table.  Even  the  crumbs 
which  fell  from  the  rich  man's  table  were  an  object,  and  it  would 
seem  the  highest  object,  of  his  desires.  Beyond  the  possession 
of  these,  it  does  not  appear  that  he  even  raised  or  cherished  a 
wish ;  and  it  would  seem,  that  even  these  were  sparingly  given 
to  him.  He  was  laid  at  the  gate  of  the  rich  man  by  those,  who, 
not  improbably,  wished  to  free  themselves  from  the  burden  of  see- 
ing and  relieving  him ;  and  who  cast  him  down  here,  with  that 
cold  compassion,  which  was  satisfied  if  it  did  not  see  him  die  of 
want.  Here  he  lay  under  the  naked  heaven,  and  had  no  bed  but 
the  ground. 

He  was  also  full  of  sores.  A  malignant  and  incurable  leprosy 
appears  to  have  infected  and  overcome  him  ;  so  that  he  was  un- 
able to  walk,  and  was  therefore  carried  by  others  to  this  place. 
Of  course  he  was  unclean ;  an  outcast  from  the  congregation  ; 
and  an  object  of  loathing  to  all  who  saw  him. 

There  he  had  neither  physician,  nor  nurse.  The  dogs  were 
the  only  assistants  which  he  found,  or  who  had  feeling  enough 
to  attempt  his  relief.  They  came,  and  licked  his  sores,  and  fur- 
nished him  with  his  only  earthly  comfort,  except  the  crumbs  on 
which  he  meagerly  subsisted. 


SER.  XX.]  AND  LAZARUS.  301 

2dly.  He  was  miserable. 

All  the  preceding  circumstances  exhibit  this  as  an  additional 
ingredient  in  his  sufferings.  His  want,  his  wretchedness,  his  loath- 
someness, the  incurable  and  odious  disease  with  which  he  was 
affected,  the  place  where  he  was  laid,  and  his  desertion  by  man- 
kind ;  are  all  so  many  striking  proofs  of  the  contempt,  in  which 
he  was  holden. 

Equally  are  they  evidences  of  the  constant  misery  which  he 
suffered.  The  pains  of  his  disease  must  have  been  continual,  in- 
tense, and  dreadful.  His  total  want  of  friends,  of  relief,  of  com- 
passion, of  hope  ;  the  contempt  and  loathing,  which  he  was  obli- 
ged to  sustain ;  and  the  hardness  of  heart,  which  he  saw  daily 
proved  by  the  conduct  of  all  around  him ;  must  have  pressed 
equally  upon  his  body  and  mind,  and  overwhelmed  him  with  an- 
guish and  despair. 

Thus  he  was  without  good  in  possession  or  in  reversion,  in  the 
present  world. 

After  suffering  for  a  time  these  numerous  evils,  this  singular 
complication  of  woes,  his  frame  sunk  under  them  ;  and  nature., 
wearied  out  with  enduring,  gave  way.  He  died,  and  gave  up 
the  ghost.  That  he  was  buried,  does  not  appear.  It  is  scarcely 
probable,  that  those,  who  had  entirely  neglected  him  through 
life,  were  mindful  of  him  after  he  was  dead.  What  was  now  his 
condition  ? 

In  the  future  world,  he  was 

1  St.  Rich  in  the  abundance  of  all  things. 

Poor  as  he  was  in  this  world,  destitute  as  he  was  of  earthly 
property,  friends,  and  hope  ;  he  had,  with  an  industrious  and  care- 
ful hand,  laid  up  treasures  in  the  heavens.  Durable  riches  and 
righteousness  constituted  his  property,  and  of  these  he  had  an 
abundance.  The  wealth  of  the  mind,  the  hidden  treasure,  the 
wealth  which  makes  rich  beyond  the  grave  and  which  passes  with 
an  eternal  currency  among  immortal  and  glorified  beings ;  he 
had  stored  up  with  an  eager  diligence.  With  these  treasures  he 
entered  that  world,  and  immediately  found  himself  to  be  amply 
provided  for  his  future  and  eternal  subsistence. 

Vol.  II.  39 


302  THE  RICH  MAN  [SER.  XX 

2dly.  He  was  honourable. 

In  that  world,  as  well  as  in  this,  all  the  rich  are  respected  and 
honoured.  The  treasures,  which  exist  there,  are  the  means  of 
certain  and  universal  reputation  and  regard.  These  he  was  seen 
and  acknowledged  to  possess  in  a  superior  degree,  and  was  there- 
fore regarded  as  justly  claiming  the  respect  of  all  its  inhabitants. 

What  a  contrast  was  this  to  his  former  situation  !  With  what 
emotions  must  he  have  been  agitated,  when  he  entered  that  world? 
So  poor,  despised,  and  humble  a  man  could  hardly  have  failed  to 
expect  some  share  at  least  of  that  lowliness  of  condition  and 
character,  which  on  earth  he  had  known  from  bitter  experience. 
To  be  lowly,  and  despised,  and  poor,  was  to  him  a  habit;  and 
the  only  habit,  which,  with  respect  to  these  things,  he  could  be 
supposed  to  have  formed  here  below.  How  then  must  he  have 
been  surprised  and  astonished,  when  he  opened  his  eyes  in  eterni- 
ty;  and  beheld  angels  waiting  to  receive  him,  and  to  conduct  him 
to  the  house  of  his  heavenly  Father.  In  what  manner  must  he 
have  been  lost  in  wonder,  who  knew  not  what  respect  or  kindness 
was  from  his  fellow  men,  to  see  these  immortal  beings  meet  him 
with  smiles  of  friendship  and  complacency,  hail  him  as  their  friend 
and  companion,  salute  him  as  one  of  those  sinners  whose  repent- 
ance had  diffused  an  universal  joy  over  the  heavenly  world,  and 
proffering  themselves  to  him  as  his  conductors  to  heaven. 

Think  of  the  glorious  character  of  his  attendants  ;  the  change 
of  his  circumstances ;  the  novelty  of  the  treatment  which  he  re- 
ceived ;  and  the  wonders  of  the  prospect,  opened  before  him. 
To  the  great  and  splendid  in  this  world  he  had  only  bowed  with 
awe.  From  them,  he  had  never  received  even  a  look  of  tender- 
ness and  compassion  ;  much  less  the  acts  of  beneficence  and  re- 
lief. Above  him  they  were  lifted  too  high,  to  cast  their  eyes  down 
on  so  lowly  and  insignificant  a  being.  Of  but  little  more  conse- 
quence than  a  worm,  all,  that  he  expected,  or  could  expect,  was. 
not  to  be  crushed  by  the  foot  of  insolence  and  power. 

But  now  these  illustrious  inhabitants  of  heaven,  who  stand  be- 
fore the  throne  of  God,  in  comparison  with  whom  all  the  princes 
and  nobles  of  the  earth  are  as  insects,  presented  themselves  be 


!  ^En.  XX.]  AND  LAZARUS.  303 

fore  him  as  hi?  friends,  companions,  and  guides  ;  welcomed  him 
to  their  affection  and  esteem ;  and  proffered  voluntarily  to  him 
every  kind  office.  The  eye  of  contempt  could  novi^  no  more 
glance  at  him  ;  the  finger  of  scorn  no  more  mark  him  as  its  butt ; 
the  heart  of  unkindness  no  more  harden  itself  against  his  suffer- 
ings ;  nor  the  door  of  pride  be  insolently  shut  against  his  peti- 
tions. Now  he  was  changed  from  the  beggar,  the  leper,  the 
child  of  suffering  and  despair,  into  a  son,  and  king,  and  priest,  of 
God  ;  and  he  was  destined  to  reign  with  him  forever  and  ever. 
3dly.  He  ivas  happy. 

He  was  happy  in  external  things,  in  which  he  was  before  mis- 
erable. All  such  things  now  became  supremely  delightful  and 
desirable  to  him.  His  habitation,  now,  was  the  house  of  his 
heavenly  Father ;  one  of  the  mansions  of  which  was  henceforth 
allotted  to  him  as  his  everlasting  residence.     In  this  glorious 

'.  place  he  was  united  to  companions  and  friends,  who  knew,  and 
acknowledged,  and  rejoiced,  in  his  worth ;  who  possessed  the 
same  character,  delighted  in  the  same  objects,  and  were  occupi- 
ed in  the  same  pursuits,  with  himself  To  minister  to  his  enjoy- 
ments, and  to  receive  from  him  with  pleasure  and  gratitude  his 
kind  offices  ;  was  one  of  the  employments  which  they  coveted, 

I  and  to  which  they  were  to  be  forever  devoted.  The  Master, 
whom  both  he  and  they  served  and  were  forever  to  serve,  was 
their  infinite  and  eternal  Friend ;  who  forgave,  redeemed,  and 

I  sanctified  them  all ;  and  who  removed  them  from  this  miserable 
world  to  his  own  immediate  residence,  only  to  bestow  on  them  a 
never  ending  series  of  blessings.  Here  he  was  a  son,  an  heir,  a 
joint  heir  with  Christ,  the  First-born,  "to  an  inheritance  undefiled 
and  that  fadeth  not  away."  His  prospects  were,  therefore,  all 
bright  and  ravishing.  On  earth  all  the  evil,  that  he  was  ever  to 
suffer,  had  been  received.  Throughout  the  ages  of  the  eternal 
future  nothing  remained  for  him  but  good,  overflowing  and  eter- 
nal good. 

His  conduct,  during  his  probation  on  earth,  was  approved. 
He  had  "been  faithful  over  the  few  things,"  entrusted  to  his 
charge  ;  and  being  pronounced  to  have  well  done,  he  was  admit- 


304  '        THE  RICH  MAN  AND  LAZARUS.  [SER.  XX. 

ted  forever  into  "  the  joy  of  his  Lord."  His  sins  were  all  forgiv- 
en, and  washed  away  in  the  blood  of  the  Redeemer.  His  soul 
was  purified  from  every  stain  ;  and  delivered  from  every  error,  and 
from  every  fear.  His  former  hopes  were  now  terminated  in  frui- 
tion immensely  superior  to  all  that  eye  had  seen,  or  ear  heard,  or 
heart  conceived.  His  faculties  were  ennobled  and  perfected. 
To  know,  to  love,  and  to  enjoy,  was  henceforth  his  only  business; 
the  proper  destination  of  a  rational,  virtuous,  and  immortal  mind. 
To  the  Resurrection  he  looked  forward  without  impatience, 
but  with  a  dehghtful  assurance  of  hope.  Then  his  vile  body, 
committed  to  the  grave  in  weakness,  corruption  and  dishonour, 
he  knew  would  be  raised  in  power,  incorruption,  and  glory  ;  and 
changed,  and  refashioned  like  unto  Christ's  glorious  body,  accor- 
ding to  the  working,  whereby  he  is  able  to  subdue  all  things  unto 
himself  He  knew,  from  the  promises  of  God,  that,  at  that  pe- 
riod, his  body  and  mind  would  be  re-united  ;  and  would  constitute 
one  perfect  and  glorious  man,  formed  for  none  but  exalted  pur- 
poses and  enjoyments.  He  also  knew,  that,  at  that  period,  all 
his  companions  in  the  faith  and  patience  of  the  saints  would  be 
united  with  him  ;  and  that,  thus  united,  all  would  commence  the 
divine  system  of  virtuous  existence  and  virtuous  conduct,  destin- 
ed to  adorn  the  new  heavens  and  the  new  earth,  wherein  right- 
eousness shall  dwell  forever. 


SERMON  XXI. 

THE  COMING  OF  CHRISl'. 

Luke  xii.  ^0. 

Be  ye  therefore  ready ^  also ;  for  the  Son  of  Man  cometh  at  an 
hour,  when  ye  think  not. 

In  the  preceding  part  of  this  Chapter  our  Saviour  gives  us  a 
series  of  most  solemn  and  important  instructions  concerning  our 
conduct  in  the  present  hfe,  and  our  preparation  for  that  which 
is  to  come.  In  the  35th  verse  he  enjoins  the  duty  of  watchful- 
ness as  eminently  interesting  to  man,  especially  to  Christians ; 
and  in  the  succeeding  verses,  enforces  it  by  several  solemn  con- 
siderations. To  this  injunction  he  returns,  immediately,  in  the 
text ;  and  annexes  to  it  a  reason,  of  the  highest  moment :  "  Be 
ye,  therefore,  ready,  also  ;  for  the  Son  of  Man  cometh  at  an 
hour,  when  ye  think  not." 

In  discoursing  upon  this  passage  I  propose  to  consider  briefly 

I.  The  persons,  to  whom  the  command  is  addressed  j 

II.  The  command  itself^  and 

III.  The  Reason,  by  which  it  is  e? forced. 

I.  The  persons,  to  whom  the  command  was  addressed,  were 
originally,  the  audience,  to  which  our  Saviour  was  speaking. 
These,  as  St.  Luke  informs  us,  were  "  an  innumerable  multi- 
tude of  people,"  gathered  as  it  would  seem,  to  hear  him  preach 
the  Gospel.  A  part  of  them  were  his  disciples :  a  part  of  them 
were  his  enemies  :  and  a  part,  probably  including  the  greatest 
number,  could  scarcely  have  known  any  thing  of  him,  unless  by 
-report.  To  all  these  classes  of  men  the  command  is  addressed 
in  the  written   Gospel.     To  him,  who  reads  it,  and  to  him,  who 


30G  THE  COMING  OF  CHRIST.  [SER.  XXI. 

hears  it,  it  is  addressed  alike;  and  that,  whether  he  be  a  christian, 
or  a  sinner  ;  acquainted  with  Christ,  or  unacquainted.  At  the 
present  time,  it  is  addressed  immediately  to  every  member  of 
tliis  audience. 

II.  In  examining  the  command  itself  I  shall   briefly  mention, 

1st.   l^^hat  that  is,  for  which  ive  are  to  be  ready  :  and 

2dly.   What  is  included  in  being  ready. 

1st.  We  are  required,  to  be  ready  for  the  Coming  of  Christ. 

There  are  several  senses,  in  which  this  phrase  may  be  fairly 
understood,  as  used  in  the  Scriptures.  When  it  is  applied  to  in- 
dividuals, it  particularly  denotes  the  day  of  death.  Death  to  eve- 
|ry  man  is  the  time,  in  which  Christ  will  come  ;  which  will  termi- 
nate every  man's  probation,  and  put  an  end  to  the  necessity 
and  duty,  of  watching,  so  solemnly  enjoined  in  the  text.  All  the 
purposes,  for  which  he  is  to  watch,  are  then  finally  settled  ;  and 
all  the  opportunities  of  becoming  ready  for  the  appearance  of 
his  Master  are  ended  forever.  Whatever  privileges,  whatever 
means,  of  amendment  he  may  have  possessed  ;  he  will  posses 
them  no  more.  Whatever  resolutions  he  may  have  formed, 
whatever  labours  he  may  have  begun,  towards  the  preparation, 
enjoined  ;  they  will  all  cease  at  this  period.  If  the  work  is  not 
now  done ;  it  will  never  be  done.  For  the  coming  of  Christ, 
then,  on  our  dying  day  we  are  here  commanded  to  be  ready. 

We  are  also  required  to  be  ready  for  the  Judgment.  When  we 
leave  the  world,  we  shall  be  summoned  to  give  an  account  of  the 
manner  in  which  we  have  spent  our  probation,  and  employed 
our  talents.  This  account  we  shall  give  to  Christ  himself;  and 
shall  then  be  declared  by  him  to  have  done  well,  or  ill.  The  sen- 
tence, which  he  will  here  pronounce,  will  be  irreversible ;  and 
the  trial  admit  of  no  appeal.  Our  souls  will  be  suspended  on  its 
issue  :  and  whatever  good  or  evil  may  be  in  store  for  us  during 
the  progress  of  our  future  being  ;  whatever  may  be  hoped,  and 
whatever  may  be  dreaded,  by  us ;  it  will  all  follow  this  decision. 
For  an  event  of  this  magnitude  it  is  immensely  important,  that  we 
should  be  ready. 


SER.  XXL]  THE  COMING  OF  CHRIST.  307 

We  are,  also,  to  be  ready  for  Eternity.  In  this  immense  dura- 
tion the  final  sentence  will  be  carried  into  complete,  and  endless, 
execution.  Every  work,  which  we  have  done  in  this  life,  will 
then  find  its  reward  :  and  the  sum  of  happiness,  or  the  mass  of 
misery,  allotted  to  us,  will  be  'immeasurably  great..  Who  ought 
not  to  be  ready  for  such  a  state  of  being,  as  this  ?  What  meas- 
ures ought  to  be  grudged?  What  pains  ought  to  be  spared? 
What  self-denial  ought  not  cheerfully  to  be  undergone  ? 

2dly.  /  will  now  proceed  to  enquire  what  is  included  in  being 
Ready. 

This  subject,  for  reasons  which  satisfy  myself,  I  shall  canvass 
in  the  negative  form.  From  the  characteristics  of  those,  who 
are  not  ready,  my  audience  may,  if  they  are  willing,  learn  with 
some  advantages,  which  are  peculiar  to  this  mode  of  discussion, 
the  true  nature  of  that  preparation  for  the  coming  of  Christ, 
which  he  has  enjoined  in  the  text. 

In  the  first  place.  No  person  is  ready  for  the  coming  of  Christ., 
who  does  not  keep  the  Sabbath  holy. 

We  are  required  in  the  Scriptures  to  ''  turn  away  our  foot  from 
the  Sabbath,  from  doing  our  pleasure  on  this  holy  day ;  to  call 
the  Sabbath  a  delight,  and  the  Holy  of  the  Lord  honourable  ;  and 
to  honour  him :  not  doing  our  own  ways,  nor  finding  our  own 
pleasure,  nor  speaking  our  own  words."  If  we  do  this ;  we  are 
furnished  with  a  series  of  most  gracious  promises,  conveying  to 
us  the  richest  of  all  blessings.  We  shall  be  accepted  in  all  our 
solemn  services  ;  shall  be  enabled  to  "  delight"  ourselves  "in  Je- 
hovah ;"  shall  be  made  "joyful  in  his  house  of  prayer ;"  and 
shall  have  given  to  us  "  an  everlasting  name,  that  shall  not  be  cut 
off."  At  the  same  time,  we  are  required  not  to  "  forsake  the  as- 
sembling of  ourselves  together ;  to  worship  the  Lord  in  the  beau- 
ty of  holiness  ;"  and  are  taught,  that  all  the  good,  esteem  the 
"  tabernacles  of  Jehovah  amiable  ;"  that  their  "  heart,"  and  their 
"  flesh,  cry  out  for  the  living  God"  that  his  house  is  to  them,  as  a 
nest  to  the  sparrow  ;  and  that  "  every  one  of  them  in  Zion  ap- 
peareth  before  him."  Here,  we  are  taught,  "  he  is  their  Sun,  and 
their  Shield  :"  here  he  "  gives  grace,  and  glory  :"  and  hero  "  he 


308  THE  COMING  OF  CHRIST.  [SER.  XXI. 

withholds  from  them  no  godd  thing."  On  the  other  hand,  the 
anger  of  God  against  the  pollution  of  the  Sahbath  is  awfully 
shown  in  the  law,  which  required,  that  "  the  Sabbath  breaker 
should  be  stoned ;"  in  the  declaration,  that  the  land  should  lie 
desolate  during  the  Babylonish  captivity,  because  it  did  not  rest 
in  their  Sabbaths,  while  the  Israelites  dwelt  upon  it;  and  in  the 
prediction  of  God,  recorded  by  Ezekiel,  that  he  "  would  pour  out 
his  fury  upon  them  in  the  wilderness,  to  consume  them,  because  » 
they  greatly  polluted  his  Sabbaths." 

It  will  not  be  denied,  that  in  this  audience  the  number  of  per- 
sons, who  do  not  perform  these  duties,  and  are  guilty  of  these 
sins,  is  not  small.  The  listless,  sleeping,  stupid  attitude,  so  often 
seen  in  this  house  ;  and  the  trifling,  light-minded,  irreverent  char- 
acter, perhaps  on  no  Sabbath  unseen  ;  prove  beyond  a  hope,  as 
well  as  beyond  a  doubt,  that  this  holy  day  is  by  the  same  persons 
profaned,  and  polluted,  elsewhere.  To  every  one  of  these  persons 
I  say  without  hesitation.  You  are  not  ready  for  the  coming  of 
Christ.  You  live  in  a  regular,  gross,  daring  disobedience  to  the 
commands  of  God  ;  commands,  too,  delivered  to  mankind  in  a 
manner,  awful  and  solemn  ^eyond  expression.  At  the  same 
time  you  have  not  attempted,  you  are  not  now  attempting,  to 
prepare  yourselves  either  for  death,  judgment,  or  eternity.  This 
is  evident  beyond  all  controversy,  because  the  Sabbath  is  the  very 
day,  and  the  Sanctuary  the  very  place,  in  which,  more  than  in 
all  others,  this  preparation  is  to  be  made.  This  is  the  time,  in 
which  God  especially  requires  you  to  "  hear  his  voice,  and  not 
harden  your  hearts."  This  is  the  day,  on  which,  if  ever,  your 
burnt  offerings  and  sacrifices  are  to  be  accepted  on  his  altar. 
This  is  the  day,  on  which  "  the  Lord  hath  chosen  Zion,  and  de- 
sired it  for  his  habitation."  On  this  day  he  says,  "  This  is  my  rest 
forever  :  here  will  I  dwell.  I  will  abundantly  bless  her  provision, 
I  will  satisfy  her  poor  with  bread :"  the  bread  of  hfe.  "  I  will 
clothe  her  priests  with  salvation  ;  and  the  saints  shall  shout  aloud 
for  joy."  To  these  commands  you  refuse  obedience  ;  these  bles- 
sings you  cast  away. 


SER.  XXI.]  THE  COMING  OF  CHRIST.  309 

If  you  feel  at  a  loss  concerning  your  readiness  for  the  coming 
of  Christ ;  ponder  with  deep  solemnity  the  emotions  with  which 
you  will  recite  before  your  Judge,  the  manner,  in  which  you  have 
hitherto  kept  the  Sabbath,  and  behaved  in  the  Sanctuary.  What 
reasons  will  you  be  able  to  give,  why  you  have  from  week  to 
week  profaned  this  holy  day,  and  wasted  its  golden  hours  in  idle- 
ness, in  trifling,  in  stupid  inattention  ;  and  why  in  this  house  of 
God  you  have  forgotten  all  your  duty,  and  neglected  your  souls  ? 
What  reasons  will  you  allege  for  turning  a  deaf  ear  to  the  pre- 
cepts, and  denunciations,  of  the  divine  law  ?     What  reasons  will 
you  give  for  turning  a  hard  heart  to  the  offers  of  mercy  in  the 
Gospel  ?    Christ  has  often  met  you  here.     Can  you  allege  a  rea- 
son, which  he  will  admit,  why  you  have  not  believed  in  him  ?  Of- 
ten, very  often,  has  he  proffered  to  you  all  the  blessings  of  his  re- 
demption.    Why  have  you  not  received  them  ?     He  has  solemn- 
ly called  upon  you  to  forsake  your  sins.     Why  have  you  not  for- 
saken them  ?     He  has  warned  you  with  infinite  tenderness  to 
"  flee  from  the  wrath  to  come."     Why  have  you  not  escaped  ? 
He  has  intreated  you  to  "  lay  hold  on  eternal  life."     Are  you  pos- 
sessed of  a  reason  for  refusing  it,  which  you  are  willing  to  recite 
to  him  in  your  final  account  ? 

Beside  these  glaring  proofs  of  your  absolute  want  of  prepara- 
tion for  this  most  affecting  interview,  remember,  that  Heaven  is 
the  temple  of  God;  the  seat  of  perpetual  worship.  Over  its  de- 
lightful realms  rolls  an  everlasting  Sabbath.  This  day  of  immor- 
tality dawns,  to  be  succeeded  by  no  future  evening.  Its  morning 
incense  spreads  wide  its  fragrance,  never  to  cease  again.  Its 
piety  kindles,  its  raptures  glow,  never  to  be  extinguished.  Its 
praises  tremble  on  the  harps,  and  lips,  of  "  the  multitude,  which 
no  man  can  number,"  to  be  silent  no  more  forever.  How  can 
you  be  prepared  to  unite  in  such  worship  as  this,  to  whom  the 
present,  momentary,  imperfect  worship  of  an  earthly  Sabbath  is 
an  insupportable  burthen  ?  How  can  a  voice,  dumb  in  this  world 
to  the  praise  of  God,  bear  a  part  in  the  harmony  of  that  ?  How 
can  souls,  sluggish  and  dead;  how  can  eyes,  which  are  here  clo- 
i  sed  in  deep  sleep  amid  the  worship  of  God  ;  be  awake,  and 
Vol.  II.  40 


310  THE  COMING  OF  CHRIST.  [SER.  XXL 

alive,  to  the  sublimer  worship  of  Heaven  ?  With  what  emotions 
must  the  half-day  attendant  on  the  sanctuary,  in  this  world,  be- 
hold the  morning  of  a  Sabbath,  to  which  there  will  never  be  an 
end? 

Secondly.  Prayerless  persons  are  not  ready  for  the  coming  of 
Christ. 

"  In  every  thing,"  says  St.  Paul,  "  by  prayer  and  supplicatioB 
make  known  your  wants  unto  God."  "  Pray  always,"  says  the 
same  Apostle  again,  "  with  all  prayer."  No  commands  are  more 
explicit,  or  unconditional  than  these.  He  therefore,  who  does 
not  obey  them,  obeys  none.  At  the  same  time,  the  inducements 
to  pray  are  infinite.  Man  is  not  warranted  to  hope  for  a  single 
blessing,  except  as  an  answer  to  prayer  :  and  if  he  prays  with  the 
heart,  he  is  assured  of  every  blessing.  The  commands  requiring 
this  duty,  are  given  in  every  form,  and  on  every  occasion.  The 
encouragements  to  pray  are  numberless,  and  immeasurable. 
Nay,  prayer,  in  the  Scriptures,  is  only  another  name  for  piety. 
"  Arise,"  said  Christ  to  Ananias^  "  and  enquire  in  the  house  of 
Judas  for  one,  called  Saul  of  Tarsus  :  for  behold  he  prayeth." 
Thus  the  whole  welfare  of  the  soul  is  suspended  on  the  duty  of 
Prayer.  In  him  therefore,  who  has  not  begun  to  pray,  "  there 
is  found  no  good  thing  towards  the  Lord  God  of  Israel." 

Yet  how  many  are  there  before  me,  who  never  uttered  a  prayer 
in  their  lives  ;  who  have  yet  not  learned  the  way  to  their  closets ; 
nor  ever  asked  God  to  forgive  their  sins,  or  to  save  their  souls. 
How  deplorable  a  part  of  your  final  account  must  this  story  be? 
With  what  amazement  will  you  remember  your  refusal  to  pray : 
your  negligence  of  prayer ;  and  the  reasons,  for  which  you  neg- 
lected this  great  duty.  The  promises  were  all  before  you.  The 
hand  of  God  was  opened  to  give.  The  water  of  life  flowed  at 
your  feet :  and  you  were  invited  to  take  of  it  freely.  But  you 
would  not  ask ;  and  therefore  could  not  receive. 

Thirdly.  Those,  who  do  not  profess  the  Religion  of  Christ, 
and  enter  into  his  Covenant,  are  not  ready  for  his  coming. 

"  Whosoever  shall  deny  me  before  men,  him  will  I  deny,  when 
I  shall  come  in  the  glory  of  my  F  ather  and  with  the  holy  Angel.«. 


r 


^ER.  XXI.]  THE  COMING  GP  CHRIST.  311 

And  whosoever  shall  be  ashamed  to  confess  me  before  men,  of 
him  shall  the  Son  of  man  be  ashamed,  when  he  shall  come  in  the 
glory  of  his  Father,  and  with  his  holy  Angels,"  This  audience 
well  know  how  great  a  proportion  of  their  whole  number  have, 
hitherto,  failed  to  confess  Christ  before  men.  The  reason,  which 
you  yourselves  will  allege  for  this  act  of  disobedience  is,  that  you 
do  not  believe  yourselves  prepared  to  make  a  profession  of  Reli- 
gion in  such  a  manner,  as  it  ought  to  be  made.  In  alleging  this 
reason  do  you  not  see  irresistibly,  that  you  declare  yourselves  to 
be  unprepared  for  the  coming  of  Christ  ?  Certainly  then,  you 
will  not  think  it  hard,  that  I  take  you  at  your  word,  and  pro- 
nounce you  unprepared.  You  will  not  doubt,  that  those,  who 
are  unfit  to  commune  with  Christ  at  his  table,  here,  are  unfit  to 
sit  down  with  him  in  the  kingdom  above.  If  you  have  no  sin- 
cere interest  in  his  death  and  sufferings ;  you  have  unquestiona- 
bly no  title  to  the  blessings,  which  they  purchased. 

The  command  to  enter  into  covenant  with  God  is  sufficiently 
plain  to  forbid  all  doubt  in  every  man  concerning  his  duty.  God 
covenants  with  us  to  be  "our  God,"  only  when  we  covenant  with 
him  to  be  "  his  people."  What,  then,  is  to  become  of  those,  who 
do  not  enter  into  this  covenant  ?  Let  every  such  person  remem- 
ber, that  there  is  no  title  to  any  spiritual  or  eternal  blessing,  but 
through  this  covenant ;  and  that,  if  he  be  not  found  in  it  in  the 
end,  he  will  not  be  acknowledged  as  a  child  of  God,  nor  admit- 
ted into  his  heavenly  kingdom. 

That  persons  do,  in  some  instances,  become  real  penitents,  and 
true  believers,  and  from  scruples  of  conscience  are  yet  deterred 
from  making  a  public  profession  of  Religion,  I  readily  acknowl- 
edge. I  further  acknowledge,  that  these  persons  have,  in  every 
case,  really  given  themselves  up  to  God  in  this  c(»venant ;  al- 
though they  have  not  done  it  publicly.  I  also  acknowledge,  that 
every  one  of  these  persons  is  numbered  among  the  people  of  God, 
and  is  entitled  by  the  promises  of  this  covenant  to  all  the  future, 
immortal  blessings,  which  it  conveys.  So  far  as  these  consider- 
ations will  communicate  hope,  peace,  and  comfort,  to  any  indi- 
vidual in  this  Assembly,  I  certainly  wish  to  give  him  consolation. 


312  THE  COMING  OF  CHRIST.  [SER.  XXI. 

That  there  are  such  persons  in  this  Assembly  is  not  improba- 
ble :  and  I  certainly  wish  them  all  the  comfort,  and  all  the  hope, 
which  on  evangelical  principles  they  can  obtain.  As,  however, 
it  is  of  the  last  importance,  that  they  should  not  be  deceived, 
either  by  themselves,  or  by  me,  let  me  suggest  to  them  the  fol- 
lowing things. 

They  have  not  hitherto,  made  a  public  profession  of  Religion. 
The  reason,  why  they  have  not  done  it,  is  they  doubt  their  own 
fitness  to  make  it,  or  in  other  words  their  ability  to  make  it  with 
truth.  In  this  manner  they  give  their  own  deliberate  judgment 
against  themselves. 

Let  me  then  ask  them,  whether  there  is  not  reason  for  them  to 
fear,  that  their  own  judgment  is  at  least  sufficiently  favourable  to 
themselves  ;  and  whether  God,  who  sees  them  exactly  as  they 
are,  may  not  judge  even  more  unfavourably  than  they. 

At  the  best,  their  whole  safety  obviously  lies  in  the  supposition, 
that  they  are  self-deceived,  and  that  their  case  is  really  better 
than  it  is  believed  to  be  by  themselves.  It  is  hardly  necessary  to 
observe  how  insufficient  this  supposition  is  to  furnish  solid  com- 
fort, and  supporting  hope.  Let  me  exhort  them,  therefore,  to 
give  themselves  no  rest,  until  they  see  their  way  to  a  public  pro- 
fession of  Religion  clear,  and  until  they  have  actually  confessed 
Christ  before  men. 

Fourthly.  Those  persons  also,  are  unprepared  for  the  coming 
of  Christ,  who  prefer  the  world  to  him. 

"  He,"  saith  our  Saviour,  "  who  loveth  father  or  mother  more 
than  me,  is  not  worthy  of  me  :  and  he,  that  loveth  son  or  daugh- 
ter more  than  me,  is  not  worthy  of  me."  If  we  may  not  prefer 
these  most  intimate  relations,  whom  God  has  required  us  to  love 
with  great  tenderness,  more  than  Christ ;  certainly  there  is  noth- 
ing, which  we  are  permitted  to  love  in  this  manner.  According- 
ly, St.  John  observes,  "  If  any  man  love  the  world  ;  the  love  of 
the  Father  is  not  in  him." 

To  every  intelligent  being  there  is  some  one  supreme  object  of 
his  affections :  and  this  is,  probably,  always  either  God,  or  him- 
self.   But  God  admits,  here,  no  rival    His  only  command  with 


^ER.  XXI.j  THE  COMING  OF  CHRIST.  313 

respect  to  this  subject  is,  "  Thou  shalt  love  the  Lord,  thy  God, 
with  a!i  thy  heart,  and  with  all  thy  soul,  and  with  all  thy  mind, 
and  with  all  thy  strength."  By  every  person,  who  prefers  the 
world  to  Christ,  this  command  is  continually  violated. 

Ask  yourselves,  then,  whether  you  do  not  prefer  the  world  to 
Christ.  To  determine  this  question,  enquire  further,  whether  its 
riches,  honours,  and  pleasures,  are  not  more  frequently  the  objects 
of  your  thoughts,  your  wishes,  your  designs,  and  your  labours. 
Enquire  whether  they  are  not  more  frequently  the  subjects  of 
your  conversation  ;  and  whether  Christ  is  the  subject  of  your 
conversation  at  all. 

Enquire  further,  whether  you  have  hitherto  believed  in  him 
with  the  faith  of  the  Gospel  ;  with  that  confidence  of  the  heart, 
which  flows  out  continually  in  acts  of  obedience  to  his  command- 
ments, and  ordinances  ;  whether  you  have  felt,  that  your  salva- 
tion must  be  derived  from  him  only ;  that  there  is  no  other  pos- 
sible expiation  for  your  sins,  and  no  other  ground  of  acceptance 
with  God  ;  and  that  therefore,  if  not  interested  in  his  righteous- 
ness, you  will  be  undone. 

If  you  have,  indeed,  formed  these  views,  and  exercised  these 
affections ;  you  do  prefer  Christ  to  the  world  ;  and  may  hope, 
with  the  best  reasons,  to  be  "  remembered"  by  him  "  in  the  day 
when  he  makes  up  his  jewels."  But  alas  !  how  much  cause  do 
most  of  you  daily  give,  even  in  the  view  of  charity  and  compas- 
sion, to  fear,  that  they  are  all,  hitherto,  to  be  begun  ;  that  the 
world  is  now  your  god,  your  portion,  and  your  all.  What  a  de- 
plorable account  must  every  person  of  this  character  give  to 
Christ,  at  his  coming,  of  "  the  deeds,  done  in  the  body." 

Fifthly.  All  persons  are  unprepared  fur  the  coming  of  Christ, 
who  hav^  hitherto  put  off  their  Repentance  to  a  future  season. 

"  Except  ye  repent,"  said  our  Saviour  to  his  Apostles,  "  ye  shall 
all  likewise  perish."  But  he,  that  has  postponed  his  repentance 
to  a  future  day,  is  hitherto  in  this  perishing  condition  ;  and, 
should  Christ  summon  him  to  the  Judgment,  must  appear  before 
him  in  all  his  guilt.  His  first  labour  is  yet  left  undone.  His  first 
ifitep  towards  Heaven  has  hitherto  not  been  taken. 


314  THE  COMING  OF  CHRIST.  [SER.  XXI. 

"  Procrastination,"  says  Dr.  Young,  "  is  the  thief  of  time.'" 
With  time,  it  steals  away  also  all  the  designs,  and  efforts,  of  man, 
out  of  which,  his  reformation  might  spring.  In  this  manner  it 
steals  away  your  probation  ;  and  will  finally  steal  away  your 
souls.  Not  only,  therefore,  are  you  now  unprepared,  so  far  as 
this  is  your  character  ;  but  there  is  the  most  melancholy  reason 
to  fear,  that  you  will  never  be  prepared  for  that  interview  with 
your  Judge,  at  which  all  your  interests  of  soul,  and  body,  are  to 
be  fixed  forever. 

Sixthly.  All  those  persons,  also,  are  unready  for  the  coming  of 
Christ,  who  in  their  schemes  of  reformation  reserve  to  themselves 
the  indulgence  of  some  sinful  disposition,  or  the  perpetration  of 
some  particidar  sin. 

"  Whosoever  abideth  in  him,"  says  St.  John,  "  sinneth  not. 
Whosoever  sinneth  hath  not  seen  him,  neither  known  him." 
I.  John  iii.  6.  To  sin  is  no  part  of  the  scheme  of  action,  proposed 
for  himself  by  him  who  abideth  in  Christ.  That  every  such  per- 
son commits  sin  is  unquestionable  :  but  it  is  not  a  part  of  his  de- 
signs. Yet  those  are  not  wanting;  and,  it  is  to  be  feared,  they 
are  not  few  ;  who  form  general  intentions  of  reformation,  and 
believe  themselves  to  be  really,  and  in  some  good  degree,  refor- 
med ;  who  still,  in  their  scheme  of  amendment  proceed  no  far- 
ther, than  to  drop  such  sins,  as  they  can  most  easily  part  with, 
and  reserve  to  themselves  the  privilege  of  committing  such,  as 
are  especially  dear  to  them.  The  Christian's  design  is  to  "  lay 
aside  every  weight,"  and,  especially,  "  the  sins,  which  most  ea- 
sily beset  him."  The  design  of  these  men  is  to  retain  such  sins, 
and  lay  aside  others. 

The  miser,  for  example,  will  quietly  give  up  the  costly  pursuits 
of  ambition  and  pleasure,  if  he  may  be  only  permitted  to  amass 
wealth,  and  use  the  means,  which  are  necessary  for  that  purpose. 
The  ambitious  man  is  willing  to  yield  wealth  to  the  miser,  and 
pleasure  to  the  voluptuary ;  if  he  may  only  remain  undisturbed 
in  the  chase  of  distinction.  Give  the  voluptuary  his  pleasures ; 
and  he  will  cheerfully  consent,  that  any  others,  who  will,  may 
toil  in  the  sordid  business  of  ambition  and  avarice. 


SER.  XXI.  THE  COMING  OF  CHRIST.  315 

These  are  gross  and  obvious  cases :  and  concerning  thena 
there  will  probably  be  httle  doubt.  But  there  are  very  many 
others,  scarcely  suspected  to  be  of  the  same  nature,  which  are, 
yet,  always  equally  dangerous,  and  often  no  less  fatal.  There 
are  very  many  persons,  who  from  motives  of  safety,  reputation, 
or  decency,  pass  with  no  small  propriety  through  life,  and  ac- 
quire even  the  character  of  Christians :  who  yet  practise,  habit- 
ually, sin  which  is  scarcely  observed  by  others,  or  perhaps  by 
themselves.  If  they  advance  so  far,  as  to  give  up  other  sins ; 
they  believe,  that  God  will  be  satisfied,  and  that  themselves 
shall  be  accepted.  Some  of  these  persons  reserve  to  themselves 
the  privilege  of  being  peevish  and  fretful ;  some,  that  of  being 
censorious  ;  and  some  that  of  tale-bearing.  Multitudes  cannot 
give  up  the  pleasure  of  making  good  bargains  as  they  are  pleased 
to  style  them.  Multitudes  insist  upon  the  right  of  conforming 
to  the  customs  of  the  world ;  and  often  speak  of  it  as  a  thing 
absolutely  necessary.  Among  these,  many  feel,  that  they  may 
safely  neglect  family  prayer.  Not  a  small  number  feel,  that  they 
may  sport  and  jest  with  sacred  things ;  or  that  they  may  make 
journeys  of  convenience,  or  excursions  of  pleasure  and  amuse- 
ment, on  the  Sabbath  ;  or  that  they  may  use  impure  language  in 
their  conversation  ;  or  that  they  may  safely  colour  their  represen- 
tations beyond  the  truth.  Others,  still,  believe,  that  they  may 
harbour  an  unkind,  unforgiving  spirit ;  or  that  they  may  safely 
enjoy  the  diminution  of  a  rival's  reputation ;  or  that  they  may 
read  licentious  books,  or  indulge  a  licentious  imagination.  Fi- 
nally, there  are  very  many,  who  claim  to  themselves  as  a  privi- 
lege to  spend  the  golden  hours  of  life  in  specious  idleness;  in  the 
progress  of  which  little  is  done,  that  is  useful  to  God  or  man,  in 
which  amusement  takes  the  place  of  business,  the  day  of  salva- 
tion is  consumed  in  ease  and  sport,  and  the  soul  is  bartered  for 
the  pleasure,  found  in  trifling.  Little  do  these  persons  feel,  that 
they  are  bound  not  to  "  be  slothful  in  business,  but  fervent  in  spirit, 
serving  the  Lord ;  to  work  while  the  day  lasts,"  and  to  remem- 
ber, that  "  the  night  cometh,  when  no  man  can  work." 


316  THE  COMING  OF  CHRIST.  [SER.  XXI. 

In  these  and  many  other  ways  muhitudes  of  mankind  reserve 
to  themselves  some  sinful  course  of  hfe,  or  other,  as  a  privilege. 
They  are  willing,  that  is,  they  think  themselves  willing,  to  obey 
most  of  the  commands  of  God  ;  and  secretly  hope,  that  he  will 
not  require  their  obedience  to  the  rest.  Thus  in  their  hearts  they 
make  a  bargain  with  their  Maker  ;  and  agree,  that,  if  he  will  per- 
mit them  to  sin  in  such  and  such  ways,  they  will  obey  him  in  such 
and  such  other  ways.  The  sins,  which  they  reserve,  are  always 
their  favourite  sins ;  those,  "  which  most  easily  beset  them ;" 
and  those,  therefore,  which  God  requires  of  us  always  most  anx- 
ious and  watchfully  to  resist. 

He,  who  does  not  intend  to  obey  the  divine  commands  univer- 
sally, neither  intends  to  obey,  nor  actually  obeys,  them  at  all. 
Multitudes  cheat  themselves  in  this  respect ;  but  they  cannot 
cheat  their  Maker.  The  universality  of  our  obedience  is  the  first 
proof,  that  it  is  real  and  sincere.  All  those,  therefore,  who  adopt 
the  conduct,  which  I  have  here  described,  must  be  miserably  pre- 
pared to  meet  their  Judge. 

Seventhly.  Those,  also,  are  unready  for  the  coming  of  Christ, 
who  do  not  continually,  and  solemnly,  converse  with  death,  judg- 
ment, and  eternity. 

We  become  ready  for  death  by  bringing  it  home  to  our  hearts; 
by  pondering  it  daily,  and  deeply  ;  and  by  thus  learning  what  it 
is  to  die.  We  become  ready  for  our  final  account  by  consider-  | 
ing  with  all  an.viety  of  mind  what  that  account  will  be,  and  what 
are  "  the  deeds,  done  in  the  body,"  of  which  it  will  be  composed. 
We  become  ready  for  eternity  by  realizing,  often,  its  endless  du- 
ration ;  the  immense  magnitude  of  the  scenes,  which  it  unfolds  ; 
and  the  irreversible  nature  of  the  allotments,  destined  to  us  be- 
yond the  grave.  I  do  not  mean,  that  such  meditations  will  sanc- 
tify us,  nor  that  they  will  entitle  us  to  sanctification  ;  but  I  intend, 
that  they  are  among  the  happiest  means  of  bringing  forward  this 
divine  consummation.  This  at  least  will,  I  presume,  be  granted 
on  all  hands ;  that  he,  who  does  not  think  of  these  things,  must 
be  ill  prepared  to  meet  them. 


SER.  XXI.3  THE  COMING  OF  CHRIST.  31"? 

Nothing  is  more  evident,  than  that  our  negligence  will  not  al- 
ter the  nature  of  those  momentous  events,  which  are  before  us. 
However  regardless  we  may  be  ;  it  will  still  be  a  solemn  thing  to 
die  ;  an  awful  thing  to  be  judged  ;  an  amazing  thing,  to  enter 
upon  the  recompense  of  reward.  How  many  of  you  have  either 
never  considered  these  subjects  at  all,  or  thought  of  them  only 
with  a  glance  of  the  mental  eye,  or  a  momentary  excursion  of 
the  imagination  :  and  this,  too,  forced  upon  you  by  some  alarm- 
ing discourse,  or  some  sickness  which  arrested  you,  or  the  death 
of  a  friend,  or  some  other  terrifying  event.  Think,  I  beseech 
you,  what  it  is  to  die  ;  what  it  is  to  stand  before  God  ;  what  it  is 
to  give  an  account  of  all  your  conduct  in  the  present  life  ;  what 
it  is  to  hear  the  last  sentence  ;  what  it  is  to  ascend  to  Heaven,  or 
go  down  to  Hell.  Does  not  even  a  momentary  reflection  compel 
you  to  believe ;  nay,  does  it  not  compel  you  to  feel ;  that  no 
thought,  no  anxiety,  no  labour,  can  be  too  great  to  prepare  you 
for  events  of  such  overwhelming  importance?  Does  not  the  same 
thought  prove  to  you,  that  he,  who  never  ponders  them  at  all, 
must  be  deplorably  unprepared. 

Eighthly.  Careless  Christians  are,  also,  unhappily  prepared 
for  the  coming  of  Christ. 

It  is  to  be  particularly  remembered,  that  the  precept  in  the 
text  was  especially  addressed  by  our  Lord  to  his  disciples.  It  was, 
therefore,  necessary  for  them.  But,  if  they  needed  it,  no  Chris- 
tian, of  modern  times,  will  believe  it  to  be  less  necessary  for  him- 
self. Pecuharly  is  its  quickening  influence  desirable :  and,  let 
me  add,  especially  when  Christians  are  at  ease,  negligent,  and 
sluggish,  in  the  performance  of  their  duty«  Certainly  such  Chris- 
tians are  unhappily  prepared  for  the  coming  of  their  Lord. 

Of  what  will  the  final  account,  given  by  these  persons,  con- 
sist ?  How  few,  how  imperfect,  will  the  services  of  the  best  men 
appear,  when  they  come  to  be  rehearsed  at  the  final  day,  ex- 
amined by  the  eye  of  the  Judge,  and  set  in  the  light  of  his  coun- 
tenance ?  How  much  fewer,  and  of  how  much  less  value,  will  be 
the  services  of  the  persons  in  question  ?  How  small  a  part  of 
their  duty  will  they  be  found  to  have  done  :  and  how  great  a  por 

Vol.  IL  41 


318  THE  COMING  OF  CHRIST.  [SER.  XXI. 

tion  of  their  life  will  appear  to  have  been  filled  up  with  mere 
negligence  ?  How  much  nearer  than  they  mistrust,  how  much 
nearer  than  they  will  then  be  willing  to  remember,  will  they  be 
found  to  have  approached  towards  the  character  of  the  "unprofit- 
able, and  slothful,  servant,  who  wrapped  his  talent  in  a  napkin, 
and  buried  it  in  the  earth  V  These,  certainly,  will  be  melancholy 
recitals  to  him,  who  came  from  heaven,  lived  a  life  of  suff*ering, 
and  died  on  the  Cross,  that  we  might  live  forever.  Let  every 
slothful  Christian,  then,  awake  to  a  sense  of  his  condition,  and 
character.  Let  him  search  his  life.  Let  him  probe  his  heart. 
Let  him  mark  the  little  periods,  in  which  he  has  done  his  duty  ; 
and  the  melancholy  chasms,  filled  up  either  with  doing  it  by  halves, 
in  fragments  and  scraps,  or  with  doing  nothing,  or  with  com- 
mitting sin.  Let  him  also  remember,  that  all  these  things  will 
constitute  a  part  of  his  final  account. 

IIL  I  will  now  proceed  to  the  consideration  of  the  Reason,  by 
which  the  duty  of  preparing  ourselves  for  the  coming  of  Christ 
is  enforced  in  the  text.  "  For  the  Son  of  Man  cometh  in  an 
hour,  when  ye  think  not." 

In  other  words,  Death,  Judgment,  and  Eternity,  will  come  at 
a  time,  which  we  cannot  foresee,  and  of  which  we  are  not  aware. 
The  true  weight  of  this  reason  hes  in  the  fact,  that  these  things 
are  of  such  vast  concern  to  us.  Death  ends  our  probation,  and 
introduces  us  to  the  Judgment.  The  Judgment  finally  decides 
the  great  question,  whether  we  shall  be  happy  or  miserable 
throughout  eternity  :  and  Eternity  involves  all  our  well-being. 

As  the  time  when  these  things  shall  arrive,  is  wholly  uncertain  ; 
we  ought,  obviously,  to  be  ready  for  them  at  every  period.  We 
are  to  be  ready  for  them  to-day,  to-morrow,  the  next  week,  and 
the  next  year ;  because  at  either  of  these  periods  they  may  ar- 
rive. Christ  comes,  as  he  himself  informs  us,  and  as  all  experi- 
ence proves,  "  at  even,  at  midnight,  at  the  cock-crowing,  and  in 
the  morning."  How  plainly,  then,  ought  every  one  of  his  "  ser- 
vants to  watch,  lest,  coming  sudddenly,  his  Master  find  him 
sleeping." 


feER.  XXL]  THE  COMING  OP  CHRIST.  319 

Unhappily,  we  are  always  prone  to  think  death  at  a  distance ; 
and  thus  to  feel,  that  we  may  safely  postpone  our  repentance  to  a 
future  day.  How  few  persons  would  be  guilty  of  this  procrasti- 
nation if  they  really  believed,  that  death  was  at  the  door  ?  This 
then  is  our  peculiar  danger ;  and  to  a  great  extent  the  source  of 
our  negligence,  and  our  ruin.  The  very  uncertainty,  which  ought 
to  rouse  us  to  the  greatest  diligence,  only  prompts  us  to  sloth. 
That,  which  ought  to  fill  us  with  alarm,  only  lulls  us  into  security. 
Thus  we  go  on,  postponing  the  great  business  of  life,  till  death 
knocks  at  the  door,  and  finds  the  work  yet  to  be  begun. 

But  to  all,  who  thus  waste  their  probation,  and  abuse  the  mer- 
cy of  God,  the  time  of  Christ's  coming  will  be  dreadful. 

• 

"  Death,  'tis  a  melancholy  day 
To  those,  who  have  no  God." 

Surprised,  hurried,  overborne  with  distress,  they  leave  the  world 
in  terror ;  and  awake  in  eternity,  utterly  unprepared  to  meet  their 
Judge. 

These  solemn  truths  are  peculiarly  interesting  to  persons  in 
middle,  and  declining,  life.  If  we  are  not  ready  ;  when  are  we 
to  become  so  ?  If  our  repentance  is  not  now  begun  ;  when  is  it 
to  commence?  If  we  have  not  renounced  sin;  overcome  the 
world  ;  believed  in  Christ ;  and  given  up  ourselves  to  God  ;  what 
reasons  have  we  to  hope,  that  the  little  of  life,  which  remains, 
will  be  spent  to  any  better  purpose,  than  the  great  portion,  which 
is  past  ? 

How  solemnly  ought  we  to  remember,  that  death  will  not  wait 
for  our  wishes ;  that  the  Judgment  is  now  hastening ;  that  Eter- 
nity is  at  the  door?  Disease,  unperceived,  may  now  be  making 
progress  in  our  veins  ;  and  may  be  preparing  without  a  suspicion 
on  our  part  to  hurry  us  to  the  grave.  How  absurd,  how  deceit- 
ful, how  fatal,  is  our  procrastination  !  How  dreadful  our  stupid- 
ity !  What  terrible  reasons  have  we  to  do  what  our  hands  find  to 
do  in  this  concern  with  our  might ! 

Are  we  in  health,  and  for  this  reason  at  ease  about  our  salva- 
tion ?    So  a  month  since  were  those,  who  died  yesterday.     Their 


320  THE  COMING  OF  CHRIST.  [SER.  XXI. 

end  exposes  our  folly  in  this  senseless  security ;  and  from  the 
tomb  calls  to  us,  "  Be  ye  also  ready." 

To  the  young  this  duty  becomes  immensely  interesting,  be- 
cause they  now  enjoy  the  best  of  all  seasons  for  making  this  prep- 
aration. Remember,  that,  however  hard  your  hearts  may  now 
be,  they  are  more  susceptible  than  they  will  probably  be  at  any 
future  period.  Lose  not,  then,  this  hopeful,  verdant  season,  this 
seed-time  of  life.  Should  the  good  seed  be  actually  sown  in  ad- 
vanced years  ;  it  will  find  a  sterile  soil,  and  an  inclement  sky  : 
and  the  crop,  if  it  should  really  follow,  will  scarcely  repay  the  la- 
bours of  the  reaper.  What  fearful  reasons  have  you  to  believe, 
that  your  hearts  will  be  covered  with  thorns  and  briars  ;  that  they 
will  be  nigh  unto  cursing,  and  that  thtir  end  will  be  to  be  burn- 
ed ?  How  few  of  you  are  ready  for  the  coming  of  Christ  ?  How 
few  would  declare,  that  they  believed  themselves  to  be  ready  ? 
How  kw^  while  taking  a  retrospect  of  their  fives,  can  find  in 
them  such  a  train  of  actions,  as  they  would  be  willing  to  rehearse 
before  their  Judge  ? 

Open  your  eyes ;  and  see  your  privileges,  and  with  them 
your  hopes,  every  day  lessening.  Behold  God  every  day  remov- 
ing farther  from  you ;  and  the  world  taking  a  more  entire  posses- 
sion of  your  hearts.  Look  back.  Do  you  not  perceive,  that  the 
gates  of  Heaven  have  already  become  more  distant,  dim  and 
doubtful,  to  your  eyes  ?  Listen.  Are  not  the  calls  of  mercy  al- 
ready more  indistinct.  What  hope  can  he,  who  is  sinking  every 
moment,  rationally  entertain,  that  he  shall  not  be  drowned? 
What  hope  can  he,  who  is  sliding  down  a  precipice  and  all  whose 
efforts  stop  not  his  career  at  the  beginning,  soberly  indulge,  when 
he  is  farther  advanced,  that  lie  will  not  be  dashed  in  pieces  at 
the  bottom.     Now,  then,  lay  hold  on  the  hope  set  before  you. 

Renaember  further,  that  life  to  you,  also,  is  absolutely  uncertain. 
When  your  hopes  of  living  long  are  high,  and  with  full  confi- 
dence you  are  promising  yourselves  many  days  ;  go  to  the  neigh- 
bouring burying-ground  ;  mark  how  many  monuments  are  there 
raised  over  the  young ;  and  consider  how  many  more  at  the  same 
period  of  life  have  become  inhabitants  of  those  dark  and  melaii- 


SER.  XXL]  THE  COMING  OF  CHRIST.  321 

choly  mansions,  concerning  wtiom  no  stone  tells  where  they  lie ! 
How  soon  may  you  join  these  tenants  of  the  grave !  Wait  not, 
then,  for  hoary  locks  to  inform  you,  that  you  are  tottering  over 
the  tomb.  The  gates  of  eternity  are  always  open :  and  the 
youth,  the  child,  and  the  infant,  are  passing  through  them  night 
and  day.  The  knell  may  soon  toll  for  your  funeral  also :  and 
your  weeping  friends  may  soon  follow  you  to  the  grave.  How 
distressing  will  it  be  to  them  to  look  into  that  dark  and  narrow 
house,  without  a  hope,  and  to  follow  your  souls  into  eternity  with 
no  supporting  evidence,  that,  while  here  you  believed  in  the  Re- 
deemer, or  loved  God  ;  or  that  there  you  will  give  your  account 
with  joy,  be  acquitted  at  the  final  trial,  or  find  your  names  writ- 
ten in  the  Lamb's  book  of  Life, 


SERMON  XXII. 

THE  FINAL  INTERVIEW. 

EccLESiASTEs  xii.  7. 

Then  shall  the  dust  return  to  the  earth  as  it  was  ;  and  the  spirit 
shall  return  to  God  who  gave  it. 

After  the  death  of  one  of  our  fellow  men,  we  hear  the  funer- 
al bell  summon  together  the  surviving  friends  and  neighbours  of 
the  deceased,  to  perform  the  last  kind  offices.  The  assembly 
gathers  ;  a  prayer  is  made  ;  the  coffin  is  placed  on  the  bier,  and 
borne  to  the  grave.  The  body  is  then  committed  to  the  earth. 
A  solemn  address  is  made  to  the  living,  while  surrounding  the 
narrow  house  ;  and,  with  impressions  produced  by  the  affecting 
event,  and  in  some  degree  suited  to  its  melancholy  nature,  they 
then  return  to  their  own  habitations. 

Our  friend  has  now  bidden  us  a  final  adieu.  The  intercourse 
between  him  and  us  is  terminated  ;  and  both  the  persons  and 
"places  which  knew  him"  in  the  present  world,  "  will  here  know 
him  no  more."  Nothing  is  more  obvious,  than  that  this  solemn 
subject  affects  the  survivors  less  than  its  importance  demands. 
The  widow  indeed,  and  the  orphan  children,  usually  mourn  sin- 
cerely, and  in  earnest.  The  death  of  the  husband  and  the  fa- 
ther, has  wounded  their  affection,  lessened  their  happiness,  and 
overcast  their  hopes.  There  are,  also,  at  least  in  many  instan- 
ces, other  friends,  less  intimately  connected,  who  sensibly  feel  the 
breach  made  upon  their  enjoyments.  But  there  are  multitudes 
of  others,  and  those  often  not  very  remote  in  acquaintance  or  con- 
sanguimty,  whose  last  affecting  emotions  concerning  the  depart- 
ed man  are  felt  at  the  grave ;  and  who,  when  they  turn  their  ke{ 


SER.  XXII.]  THE  FINAL  INTERVIEW.  323 

homeward,  leave  behind  them  every  sympathizing  reflection,  ev- 
ery solemn  thought.  With  them,  hfe  immediately  assumes  the 
same  aspect,  as  if  they  had  never  known  him ;  and  the  world, 
as  if  he  had  never  been. 

But  notwithstanding  all  this  indiflerence  to  death,  and  to  those 
who  are  dead,  there  are  occasions,  on  which  these  emotions  will 
in  some  measure  come  home  to  the  heart ;  incidents,  which  will 
call  them  up  to  view  in  an  affecting  light ;  and  persons,  by  whom 
they  will  be  seriously  realized  in  a  manner  not  unsuited  to  their 
importance.  On  such  occasions,  most  men,  perhaps,  experience 
at  times  some  degree  of  solicitude  ;  and  feel  an  involuntary 
twinge,  a  transient  chill,  passing  over  their  hearts.  That  we 
should  be  so  inattentive  to  a  subject  which  so  nearly  concerns  us, 
and  so  strongly  appeals  to  our  natural  tenderness,  seems  at  first 
thought  to  be  strange.  The  explanation  is  in  some  degree,  per- 
haps principally,  furnished  by  our  fears.  The  death  of  others 
naturally  alarms  us  concerning  our  own  departure  ;  and  the  con- 
sideration of  their  future  allotments  easily  leads  us  to  reflections 
concerning  our  own.  It  is  not  to  be  wondered  at  that  subjects, 
so  painful  as  these,  should  be  unwelcome  whenever  they  ap- 
proach ;  and  be  dismissed,  not  only  without  reluctance,  but  with 
eagerness  and  self-gratulation. 

There  are  however  seasons,  in  which  we  cannot  wholly  refuse 
to  wander  into  the  unseen  world.  Those,  who  are  witnesses  ot 
the  death  and  burial  of  this  departed  friend,  will,  at  times,  follow 
him  in  the  exercise  of  imagination  ;  and  inquire  with  some  anxi- 
ety whither  he  is  gone ;  where  he  dwells  ;  and  by  what  circum- 
stances he  is  surrounded.  His  body,  we  know,  is  lodged  in  the 
grave ;  is  mouldering  into  its  native  dust ;  and  is  already  become 
the  prey  of  corruption,  and  the  feast  of  worms.  But  where  is 
the  Man  ?  Where  is  the  livings  conscious  Beings  that  saw  with 
the  eyes,  spoke  with  the  tongue,  and  moved  the  hands,  of  that 
body  ?  Where  is  the  being  who  thought  and  chose,  loved  and 
hated,  controlled  the  cares  of  the  family,  mingled  in  the  inter- 
course of  the  neighbourhood,  and  took  an  active  part  in  the  in 
teresting  concerns  of  the  present  world  ? 


324  THE  FINAL  INTERVIEW.  [SER.  XXII 

Obviously,  he  is  gone,  to  return  no  more.  But  whither  has  he 
gone  ?  Is  he  "  blotted  out  of  the  book  of  the  living?"  Kas  he 
returned  to  his  original  nothing  ?  Or  has  he  become  an  inhabit- 
ant of  some  unknown  world,  whence  no  person  was  ever  per- 
mitted to  come  with  tidings  to  us  ?  He  has  "  given  up  the  ghost, 
and  where  is  he  ?" 

To  these  questions  the  Text  returns  a  decisive  answer.  "  Then 
shall  the  dust  return  to  the  earth,  as  it  was  ;  and  the  spirit  shall 
return  to  God,  who  gave  it."  The  man,  the  livin_ti\  conscious  be- 
ing who  inhabited  the  body  lately  committed  to  the  grave,  has 
returned  to  God.  We  naturally  inquire,  "For  what  end  has  he 
been  summoned  to  the  Presence  of  this  glorious  and  awful  Be- 
ing ?"  A  following  verse  of  the  context  replies,  "  For  God  shall 
bring  every  work  into  Judgment,  with  every  secret  thing,  whether 
it  be  good,  or  whether  it  be  evil."  This  short  and  affecting  an- 
swer to  a  question  so  solemn  and  interesting,  it  will  be  the  aim 
of  this  discourse  to  expand  into  a  few  particulars,  kindly  pre- 
sented for  our  meditation  in  other  parts  of  the  Word  of  God. 

It  ought  however  to  be  observed,  before  I  commence  the  exe- 
cution of  this  design,  that  Ae,  concerning  whom  we  inquire,  has 
now  become  an  unembodied  spirit.  That  union  with  the  body 
which  bound  him  to  earthly  objects,  employments,  and  connec- 
tions, is  finally  dissolved.  To  all  these  he  has  bidden  his  last 
farewell ;  and  now  wings  his  way  alone,  through  the  regions  of 
invisible  being.  The  same  man,  who  hved  a  little  while  since  in 
the  midst  of  us,  and  whose  remains  we  followed  to  the  grave,  is 
now  an  inhabitant  of  eternity.  Him  we  are  now  following  to 
that  amazing  vast ;  that  unknown  somewhere.  We  pursue,  not 
an  airy  being  of  fancy,  but  a  real  man  ;  a  neighbour  and  friend  ; 
separated  from  us  but  yesterday.  Of  this  person  it  is  to  be  ob- 
served, 

1st.  That  he  has  now  begun  his  acquaintance  and  connection, 
loith  that  World,  of  which  he  is  to  be  a  perpetual  inhabitant. 

The  present  world  is  a  stage,  where  we  are  called  to  act  a 
part ;  and  are  then  destined  to  retire  behind  the  curtain.  The 
part  assigned  to  us,  is  short ;  and  the  time  allotted  to  it,  momen- 


flER.  XXII.]  THE  FINAL  INTERVIEW.  325 

tary.  When  it  is  ended,  we  shall  reappear  no  more.  Such  was 
the  situation  of  our  deceased  friend. 

But  now  he  has  begun  a  state  which  is  enduring,  and  incapa- 
ble of  change  or  termination.  All  his  connections  are  eternal : 
his  pursuits ;  his  character  ;  his  allotments.  No  new  world  hes 
beyond.  No  revolution  of  years,  or  of  ages,  advances  him  near- 
er to  a  close.  No  distant  old  age  brings  on  its  decays.  No 
death  waits,  to  release  him  to  some  other,  untried  scenes  of  exis- 
tence. He  has  opened  his  eyes  at  once  on  a  prospect  hterally 
boundless ;  and,  roving  onward  and  onward,  with  a  wearisome 
investigation,  he  sees  ages  rising  after  ages  in  a  succession  which 
will  begin  forever. 

2dly.  He  has  entered  into  the  presence  of  God,  the  Judge 
of  all. 

In  this  world  our  neighbour,  like  ourselves,  saw  God  at  a  dis- 
tance ;  in  his  works,  faintly  seen  and  slightly  considered  ;  or  in 
his  word,  scarcely  read,  imperfectly  understood,  and  httle  re- 
garded ;  or  perhaps  in  his  own  meditations,  reluctantly  employed 
on  this  great  subject,  and  coldly  accompanied  by  affections  en- 
gaged about  the  things  of  time  and  sense. 

But  now  he  comes  directly  into  the  presence  of  his  Maker ; 
and  beholds  him  face  to  face.  He  does  not,  indeed,  behold 
"  Him,"  whom  "  no  one  hath  seen,  or  can  see,  and  live."  But  he 
presents  himself  before  the  Son  of  God  ;  the  divine  person,  "to 
whom  all  Judgment  is  committed."  His  face  he  has  beheld  ; 
his  voice  he  has  heard ;  as  in  this  world  he  had  heard  the  voice, 
and  seen  the  face,  of  an  earthly  judge.  While  our  friend  lived 
in  the  present  world  ;  he  had  often  heard  many  things  concern- 
ing this  glorious  person.  He  had  heard  of  him,  as  a  poor,  desr 
pised  man  ;  as  rejected,  hated  and  persecuted  ;  as  tried,  con- 
demned and  crucified.  He  had  heard  of  him,  as  wrapped  in 
swathes  and  spices,  and  laid  in  the  grave  ;  as  having  risen  from 
the  dead,  and  ascended  to  heaven.  Perhaps  he  believed,  per- 
haps he  disbelieved,  the  whole.  If  he  believed,  it  was  at  the  best 
imperfectly  ;  distantly  ;  ^\vith  a  dullness,  at  which  he  is  now  as- 
tonished ;  with  an  insensibility,  which  now  overwhelms  him  with 

Vol.  II,  42 


326  THE  FINAL  INTERVIEW.  [SER.  XXII. 

shame  and  confusion.  If  he  disbelieved  ;  it  was  with  a  mind 
clouded  by  moral  darkness,  and  with  a  heart  harder  than  the 
nether  millstone. 

But  now  he  has  no  opportunity  either  to  believe,  or  to  doubt. 
Knowledge  has  now  succeeded  to  conjecture  ;  and  the  evidence 
of  the  eyes,  to  the  report  of  the  tongue.  He  stands  in  the  pres- 
ence of  this  wonderful  person.  How  changed  from  him,  who 
expired  on  the  cross,  and  was  carried  to  the  tomb  !  Now  he  sits 
on  the  throne  of  the  universe  ;  and  is  worshipped  and  served,  by 
angels,  archangels,  and  the  endless  multitude  of  the  first-born ! 
Before  him  burn  with  an  intense  and  eternal  flame  "  the  seven 
Jamps  of  fire,  which  are  the  seven  Spirits  of  God  !"  In  his  pres- 
ence "  the  Seraphim  bow,  and  veil  their  faces  :"  while  "  the  four 
and  twenty  Elders  fall  down,  and  worship  ;  cast  their  crowns  be- 
fore his  throne  ;  and  say,  '  Thou  art  worthy,  O  Lord  !  to  receive 
glory,  and  honour,  and  power  ;  for  Thou  hast  created  all  things  ; 
and  for  thy  pleasure  they  are,  and  were  created  !'  "  Round 
about  his  throne  stand  "  the  four  Living  Creatures ;"  all  life  ;  all 
eye  ;  all  intellect  ;  and  with  an  unceasing  and  eternal  voice  cry, 
"  Holy,  Holy,  Holy,  Lord  God  Almighty !  who  wast,  and  who 
art,  and  who  art  to  come  !"  To  his  name  are  attuned  all  the 
harps  of  the  heavenly  world.  To  his  praise  ascends  the  contin- 
ual and  everlasting  hymn  of  the  virtuous  universe,  "Blessing,  and 
honour,  and  glory,  and  power,  and  wisdom,  and  might,  and 
thanksgiving,  be  unto  Him  that  sitteth  on  the  throne,  and  to  the 
Lamb,  forever  and  ever  :"  while  "■  the  innumerable  company  of 
angels,"  and  "  the  four  living  creatures"  at  their  head,  subjoin 
their  solemn  Amen. 

Before  this  glorious  and  wonderful  person  he  now  stands,  face 
to  face  ;  and  sees  and  hears  him,  as  he  is.  He  sees  him  the  Judge 
of  the  universe ;  the  great  dispenser  of  good  and  evil ;  whose 
word  is  life  and  death  ;  whose  favour  is  heaven  ;  whose  anger  is 
hell.  "  His  eyes  are  as  a  flame  of  fire  ;  arid  his  countenance  is 
as  the  sun,  shining  in  its  strength." 

No  helpless  babe  of  Bethlehem,  is  here  thrust  into  a  stable,  or 
swathed  in  a  manger.     No  "  man  of  sorrows"  is  here,  "  despised 


>ER.  XXII.3  THE  FINAL  INTERVIEW.  327 

and  rejected  of  men,"  and  destitute  of  a  place,  "  where  to  lay 
his  head."  No  forsaken  prisoner  is  here,  crowned  with  thorns, 
sceptred  with  a  reed,  mocked  with  insolent  homage,  buffeted, 
spit  upon,  nailed  to  the  cross,  and  laid,  a  hfeless  corpse,  in  the 
solitary  grave.  The  Author  and  Proprietor  of  all  worlds,  the 
object  of  immense  and  endless  homage,  obedience,  and  praise, 
sits,  here  upon  the  throne  of  Judgment,  to  receive  the  account 
of  his  conduct  in  the  present  hfe  -,  to  acquit,  or  condemn  him ; 
and  to  utter  that  irreversible  sentence,  which  decides  his  state  of 
being  throughout  eternity. 

How  new,  how  amazing,  must  have  been  the  sight !  How  aw- 
ful must  have  been  the  interview !  In  what  manner  must  even 
the  best  of  men  ;  Abraham^  Moses,  Paid,  or  John  ;  feel,  when 
summoned  before  him  !  Paul  was  once,  while  he  lived  here  be- 
low, actually  introduced  into  his  presence :  and  was  so  over- 
whelmed, that,  as  he  himself  has  informed  us,  "  he  knew  not 
whether  he  was  in,  or  out  of,  the  body."  What  emotions  then 
must  our  departed  friend  have  experienced  !  With  what  immeas- 
urable importance,  in  his  view,  must  the  occasion  have  been 
invested  !  With  what  stupendous  glory  must  the  Judge  have  dis- 
closed himself  to  his  eyes !  What  a  train  of  hurried,  tumultuous 
thoughts  must  have  crowded  upon  his  mind !  How  must  he  have 
shrunk  into  a  worm,  and  felt  as  if  he  were  returning  to  his  origi- 
nal nothing. 

3dly.  He  has  passed  through  that  Trial,  which  awaits  all  the 
children  of  Adam  beyond  the  grave. 

In  this  world  our  deceased  friend  was  a  probationer  for  endless 
life.  A  time  was  allotted  to  him  for  his  probation ;  talents  en- 
trusted ;  and  privileges  given.  Such  an  use  as  he  chose  and  lov- 
ed, he  here  made  of  them  all.  He  either  loved  God,  or  the 
world ;  embraced  or  rejected  the  Redeemer ;  believed  or  disbe- 
lieved the  Gospel ;  yielded  to  the  Spirit  of  Grace,  or  resisted  his 
influence.  He  either  did  good  or  evil ;  loved  virtuous  men,  and 
attached  himself  to  them  ;  or  "  sate  in  the  seat  of  the  scorner," 
and  "  was  numbered  with  the  transgressors." 


^ 


328  THE  FINAL  INTERVIEW.  [SER.  XXII. 

He  has  now  come,  to  render  his  final  account.  All  the  trans- 
actions of  his  life  have  passed  in  exact  review  under  the  eye  of 
the  awful  and  glorious  person,  to  whose  presence  he  has  been 
summoned.  His  profession  in  life,  and  the  manner  in  which  he 
has  discharged  it,  have  been  completely  examined,  and  precisely 
weighed.  His  conduct  towards  his  fellow  men  has  all  been  sif- 
ted. His  bargains  particularly,  have  been  thoroughly  explored  ; 
the  spirit  with  which  he  formed  his  contracts,  and  the  manner  in 
which  he  acquired  his  gains.  All  his  good  or  ill  offices  to  his 
neighbours  have  been  disclosed ;  his  consent  or  refusal  to  inter- 
change the  common  kindnesses  of  good  neighbourhood  ;  his  dis- 
position or  indisposition  to  impart  to  the  poor,  to  befriend  the  sick, 
and  to  relieve  the  distressed ;  the  malignity  with  which  he  slan- 
dered, or  the  integrity  with  which  he  defended,  his  neighbour's 
good  name  ;  and  the  spirit,  with  which  he  obeyed  or  disobeyed 
the  laws,  resisted  or  submitted  to  the  Government,  and  injured 
or  promoted  the  interests,  of  his  country.  The  manner  also,  in 
which  he  has  treated  his  family,  has  been  exactly  displayed.  His 
care  of  their  lives,  and  his  attention  to  their  happiness  and  hopes 
in  this  world  ;  and' his  provision  for  their  happiness  beyond  the 
grave,  daily  made  in  discharging  the  duties  of  family  piety,  and 
in  furnishing  his  children  with  a  religious  education ;  or  his  wan- 
ton wickedness  in  neglecting  the  comfort,  instruction,  govern- 
ment, and  salvation,  of  those  whom  God  committed  to  his  care. 
At  the  same  time,  a  complete  disclosure  has  been  made  of  the 
indulgence  or  restraint  of  his  own  passions ;  of  his  sloth,  lewd- 
ness, and  intemperance  ;  or  of  his  diligence,  continence,  and  so- 
briety. Nor  has  the  exhibition  been  less  perfect  of  his  reverence 
or  profaneness,  his  love  or  hatred,  towards  God  ;  his  obedience 
or  disobedience  to  the  divine  commands ;  the  fervency  of  his 
prayers,  and  the  warmth  of  his  gratitude ;  or  the  cold,  stupid, 
prayerless,  thankless  manner,  in  which  he  has  passed  through  his 
earthly  pilgrimage.  All  the  secret  sins,  also,  of  his  life,  commit- 
ted in  thought,  in  darkness,  and  in  solitude  ;  or  the  duties,  prac- 
tised in  the  loneliness  of  retirement;  have  now  been  shown  in 
clear  and  open  day,  and  set  "in  the  light  of  God's  countenance.'' 


>ER.  XXII.]  THE  FINAL  INTERVIEW.  .329 

All  these  things  he  has  himself  recited.  His  memory,  with  new 
power,  has  been  opened  on  all  the  events  of  his  earthly  life. 
His  tongue,  with  a  veracity  before  unknown,  has  spontaneously 
yielded  to  the  impulse  of  truth  ;  and,  whether  accustomed  or  not 
to  utter  truth  here  below,  has  now  declared  with  perfect  exact- 
ness, all  the  things  "  done  in  the  body."  The  evil  and  disgrace- 
ful scenes  of  his  life  he  has  rehearsed  without  disguise ;  even 
those  which  here  he  would  not,  for  a  thousand  worlds,  have  ut- 
tered to  his  nearest  friend.  Those  which  were  honourable  and 
virtuous,  he  has  in  the  same  sincere  manner  declared,  with  no 
self  flattery,  and  no  concealment  of  modesty.  Naked  truth  has 
here  been  the  only  law  of  communication. 

Among  the  things  which  have  most  interested  him  on  this  af- 
fecting occasion,  those  parts  of  his  conduct,  which  have  immedi- 
ately respected  Christy  have  undoubtedly  holden  a  primary  place. 
With  what  peculiar  emotions  must  he  have  repeated  to  the  Sav- 
iour of  men,  now  arrayed  in  supreme  glory  and  power,  his  own 
unbelief  and  disobedience  !  How  difficult,  and  distressing,  must 
have  been  the  rehearsal  of  the  disregard,  with  which  he  heard 
his  instructions ;  the  stupidity,  with  which  he  contemplated  his 
miracles ;  the  enmity,  which  he  exercised  towards  his  character ; 
the  disobedience,  which  he  exhibited  to  his  commands  and  ordi- 
nances ;  and  the  contempt,  which  he  cast  upon  the  sufferings  of 
the  cross  !  When  he  beholds,  face  to  face,  the  Son  of  God,  who 
died  that  he  might  live  ;  in  what  manner  must  his  ingratitude  to 
so  disinterested  and  divine  a  benefactor  for  benefits  so  endearing, 
and  so  evidently  immense,  have  awakened  in  him  shame,  confu- 
sion, and  self-abhorrence  ?  How  deplorable  must  his  reasons  for 
all  this  evil  conduct  have  appeared !  How  naturally  must  he 
have  called  to  mind  that  solemn  declaration  of  the  same  Saviour, 
often  repeated  to  him  on  this  side  of  the  grave,  "  Because  1 
have  called,  and  ye  refused,  I  have  stretched  out  my  hand,  and 
no  man  regarded  ;  but  ye  have  set  at  nought  all  my  counsel,  and 
would  none  of  my  reproof:  therefore  I  also  will  laugh  at  your 
calamity,  and  mock  when  your  fear  cometh ;  when  your  fear 
Cometh  as  desolation,  and  your  destruction  as  a  whirlwind." 


330  THE  FINAL  INTERVIEW.  [SER.  XXIJ. 

On  the  contrary,  with  what  emotions  of  joy  has  he  mentioned, 
if  it  was  in  his  power  to  mention,  the  gift  of  "  a  cup  of  cold  water, 
to  a  disciple  in  the  name  of  a  disciple  ;"  a  single  faithful  prayer, 
humbly  offered  up  to  God  in  the  name  of  Christ ;  a^single  union 
with  his  fellow  Christians  in  the  public  worship  of  his  Maker ;  a 
single  sincere  commemoration  of  the  dying  love  of  the  Redeem- 
er. What  comfort  and  courage  has  he  found  in  remembering 
that  he  faithfully  confessed  Christ  before  men ;  and  shewed  that 
he  was  "  his  disciple  indeed,  by  doing  all  things,  whatsoever  he 
hath  commanded  ?"  With  what  satisfaction  has  he  recollected, 
that,  while  living  in  this  world,  he  "  did  to  others,  that"  which  he 
wished  "  others  to  do  to  him  ;"  that  he  was  just  in  his  dealings, 
sincere  in  his  declarations,  and  kind  in  his  affections  and  conduct, 
that  he  cheerfully  forgave  his  enemies,  supplied  the  wants  of  the 
poor,  and  relieved  the  sufferings  of  the  distressed  ?  How  joyfully 
must  he  have  called  to  mind,  in  an  especial  manner,  his  offices  of 
love  to  the  followers  of  Christ ;  and  rehearsed,  that,  when  they 
were  "  an  hungered,  he  fed  them ;  when  they  were  thirsty,  he  gave 
them  drink  ;  and  when  they  were  strangers,  he  took  them  in  ?" 

How  different  have  been  the  things  in  which  he  rejoiced  and 
gloried,  at  this  amazing  interview,  from  those  in  which  probably 
he  gloried  at  times,  in  the  present  world  ?  How  little  has  he  felt 
inclined  to  speak  of  his  estate ;  his  person ;  his  talents ;  his  ac- 
complishments ;  his  honours  ;  his  offices  ;  his  hard  bargains  ;  his 
successful  struggles  against  rivals ;  and  his  agency  in  exciting 
public  discontent,  turmoil,  and  trouble  ? 

What  an  account,  before  this  awful  Judge,  would  be  the  story 
of  a  duel,  fought  by  our  deceased  friend  ;  of  the  affront  which 
occasioned  it,  the  resentment  which  penned  the  challenge,  the 
spirit  which  drove  him  to  the  field,  and  the  frenzy  which  prompt- 
ed him  to  cut  off  the  life  of  a  fellow  creature  in  the  midst  of  his 
sins.  What  an  appearance  must  the  rehearsal  make  of  a  fortu- 
nate intrigue ;  a  successful  amour  ;  a  gambling  match  ;  a  horse 
race  ;  a  swindling  speculation  ;  a  furious  law  suit ;  a  riotous  de- 
bauch ;  the  ruin  of  a  neighbour  ;  the  neglect,  and  corruption,  of 
a  family ;  a  profane  and  dishonest  covenant ;  and  a  dissembling, 
faithless  ministry. 


SER.  XXir.]  THE  FINAL  INTERVIEW.  33I 

On  the  contrary,  what  must  be  the  account  of  the  exercises  of 
a  humble,  meek,  patient,  beheving,  penitent,  spirit,  filled  with 
love  to  God  and  kindness  to  men. 

4thly.  He  has  heard  the  final  sentence  pronounced  on  himself. 

At  the  close  of  this  trial,  he  was  declared  to  be  a  "  good  and 
faithful,"  or  an  evil  and  "  unprofitable,  servant ;"  and  was  re- 
ceived, as  being  interested  in  the  righteousness  of  Christ,  to  "  the 
inheritance  of  them  that  are  sanctified  ;"  or  rejected,  as  having 
lived  "without  God"  in  this  world,  and  died  "  without  hope"  in 
the  next.  If  he  sustained  the  former  character  ;  he  was  found 
to  have  "  been  faithful  over  a  few  things  ;"  and  appointed  to 
"rule  over  many  things,"  and  was  welcomed  "  to  the  joy  of  his 
Lord."  If  he  had  sustained  the  latter  ;  he  was  found  to  have 
been  useless  and  worthless,  in  the  Kingdom  of  God  ;  and  was 
therefore  "  bound  hand  and  foot,  and  cast  into  outer  darkness, 
where  there  is  weeping  and  gnashing  of  teeth."  This  sentence 
was  pronounced  in  his  hearing  by  the  Judge  ;  and  conveyed  to 
him  endless  happiness,  or  endless  woe.  It  was  final ;  it  was  just : 
for  it  was  formed  by  infinite  wisdom,  goodness,  and  truth.  The 
Judge,  who  pronounced  it,  is  perfectly  qualified  for  this  awful 
employment ;  for  He  has  "  searched  the  heart,  and  tried  the 
reins,"  of  every  inteUigent  creature,  from  the  beginning.  With 
an  intuitive  survey,  he  has  seen  every  action  of  every  such  crea- 
ture ;  the  circijiiistances,  which  attended  that  action  ;  the  mo- 
tives, views,  and  ends,  with  which  it  was  performed  ;  together 
with  all  its  consequent  aggravations,  and  palliations.  These  he 
can  bring  up  into  one  clear  and  perfect  view  ;  settle  in  every  case 
the  degree  of  guilt  or  worth,  with  unerring  certainty;  and  ap- 
portion with  absolute  exactness  the  allotted  reward.  From  him, 
also,  there  is  no  appeal.  No  future  trial  exists,  at  which  the  sen- 
tence may  be  reversed.  No  Judge  of  superiour  authority  or  skill 
remains,  before  whom  the  cause  may  be  heard  anew. 

Here,  then,  our  departed  friend  has  appeared,  for  the  final  set- 
tlement of  all  his  interests.  He  was  not  in  question  concerning 
conduct,  upon  which  were  suspended  the  enjoyments  of  another 
day  :  of  another  year  ;  or  another  such  life,  as  the  present.     He 


332  THE  FINAL  INTERVIEW.  gSER.  XXH. 

was  in  question  concerning  his  endless  well-being.  His  all  was 
at  stake.  Himself  was  to  be  disposed  of.  Whatever  good  he 
hoped  for  was  to  be  established ;  or  whatever  evil  he  dreaded  to 
be  fixed  beyond  recall. 

5thly.  At  the  close  of  this  interview  he  has  gone  to  receive  his 
reward. 

Of  this  affecting  subject  I  shall  only  observe,  that  to  the  moral 
character,  the  service,  the  life,  and  the  allotment,  which  he  chose 
here,  he  will  be  sentenced  there.  If  he  chose  the  character  of 
hohness,  the  service  of  God,  and  the  enjoyments  of  heaven,  in 
the  present  world  ;  he  will  forever  serve  God,  practise  holiness, 
and  enjoy  the  blessings  of  heaven,  in  the  world  to  come.  If  he 
loved  and  practised  sin  ;  chose  the  service  of  Satan,  and  delight- 
ed in  the  company  of  wicked  men,  here  ;  he  is  consigned  to  end- 
less sin,  the  eternal  service  of  Satan,  and  the  perpetual  company 
of  the  wicked,  in  the  future  world.  Thus  his  destiny  will  be  the 
result  of  his  choice,  and  will  exactly  accord  with  that  choice, 
throughout  eternity.  In  this  respect,  the  reward,  allotted  to  him, 
exhibits  the  strongest  appearance  of  the  most  exact  and  abso- 
lute equity,  on  the  part  of  God. 

REMARKS. 

No  subject  is  more  solemn,  more  awful,  or  more  instructive, 
than  this.  From  the  multitude  of  practical  remarks,  which  it 
naturally  suggests  to  a  serious  mind,  I  shall,  at  the  present  time, 
select  the  three  following. 

1st.  These  considerations  teach  us  the  pre-eminent  wisdom  of 
doing  that,  and  that  only,  here,  which  will  give  us  support  and 
consolation  when  we  appear  at  this  trial. 

All  these  things  will  then  be  present,  real,  and  of  the  highest 
importance  to  us.  We  shall  then  have  arrived  at  the  final  deter- 
mination of  every  interest,  and  every  hope.  This  determination 
will  be  founded  entirely  upon  "  the  deeds,  done  in  the  body, 
whether  they  have  been  good,  or  whether  they  have  been  evil." 
On  the  decision  of  that  day  eternity  will  hang  ;  and  that  decision 


SEK.  XXII.3  THE  FINAL  INTERVIEW.  333 

is  suspended  on  the  conduct  of  this  hfe.  No  conduct,  therefore, 
can  be  esteemed  useful,  except  that  which  will  tlien  be  found  use- 
ful. Happily,  it  is  now  easy  to  know  what  this  is,  without  any 
danger  of  mistake.  With  the  Bible  in  our  hands,  and  its  pre- 
cepts in  our  minds,  precepts  easily  acquired,  and  so  far  as  this  ob- 
ject is  concerned  easily  understood,  remembered  and  applied, 
we  have  only  to  ask  with  respect  to  any  action,  word,  or  thought : 
"  In  what  manner  will  this  appear  before  the  Judge  of  the  quick 
and  dead  V  This  question  will  at  once  satisfy  any  mind,  willing 
to  be  satisfied  ;  and  resolve  every  doubt,  not  voluntarily  retained. 

In  truth,  the  difficulty,  found  in  regulating  our  conduct  so  as 
to  be  ready  for  the  final  trial  and  a  glorious  reward,  does  not 
lie  in  our  ignorance  of  its  nature  ;  but  in  our  indisposition  to  pur- 
sue it,  when  actually  understood.  To  understand  it  seems  easy 
enough  ;  but  to  adopt  it  is  usually  a  business  of  labour  and  strug- 
gle. In  order  to  overcome  this  reluctance,  few  things  can  so 
powerfully  contribute,  as  a  clear,  strong,  habitual  remembrance 
of  the  affecting  scenes  which  have  now  been  presented  to  our 
view.  Can  he,  who  thus  knows  and  feels  that  his  body  will 
soon  go  down  to  the  grave,  and  his  "  spirit  return  to  God,  who 
gave  it ;"  that  he  must  then  give  an  account  of  every  work, 
which  his  heart  has  contrived,  and  his  hands  wrought ;  that  he 
shall  then  be  acquitted  or  condemned,  as  these  works  shall  have 
been  good  or  evil ;  that,  if  acquitted,  he  will  ascend  to  Heaven, 
and  enjoy  endless  happiness  and  glory  ;  and  that,  if  condemned, 
he  will  sink  down  to  undying  misery,  remorse,  and  despair :  can 
this  man  fail  to  examine  all  his  thoughts  and  all  his  actions,  day  by 
day  ?  Can  he  fail  to  inquire  with  an  anxious  and  prying  eye, 
whether  they  will  be  pleasing  or  displeasing  to  his  judge  ;  wheth- 
er they  will  ensure  him  a  glorious  reward,  or  a  dreadful  punish- 
ment ?  Must  not  eternity  rise  up  continually  to  his  view  ;  and 
spread  its  amazing  scenes  to  his  eye,  in  unceasing  and  awful  suc- 
cession ?  Must  not  "  hell  be  naked  before  him,  and  destruction 
have  no  covering  ?"  Will  not  the  New  Jerusalem  appear  to  him 
daily,  "  coming  down  from  God  out  of  heaven ;"  and  dawn  upon 
his  ravished  eyes  with  delightful  and  inexpressible  splendour  ? 

Vol.  II.  43 


334  THE  FINAL  INTERVIEW.  [SER.  XXII. 

Will  he  not  see  his  former  friends,  the  deceased  Christians,  wh  >m 
he  loved,  standing  in  the  entrance  ;  pointing  to  him  the  path  of 
life;  calling  upon  him  to  strive  to  "enter  in  at  the  straight  gate;"' 
stimulating  his  efforts  ;  encouraging  his  progress  ;  and  waiting  to 
renew  their  joy  over  his  repentance?  Must  not  the  Redeemer  of 
men  stand  ever  in  his  sight  ?  Must  he  not  see  his  wounds  open  : 
his  blood  poured  out ;  and  his  life  terminating  with  agony  ;  that 
he  himself  might  live  ?  Can  he  fail  to  hear  the  voice  of  this  di- 
vine and  compassionate  Saviour,  calling  to  him  with  the  yearn- 
ings of  infinite  love,  "  Ho  !  every  one  that  thirsteth !  Come  ye 
to  the  waters :  and  he  that  hath  no  money :  come  ye  ;  buy  and 
eat ;  yea  come  ;  buy  wine  and  milk,  without  money  and  without 
price  ?"  Can  he  forget  how  transporting  it  will  be  humbly  to 
declare,  when  summoned  to  the  judgment,  in  the  presence  of 
the  Son  of  God,  "Lord  thou  deliveredst  unto  me  five  talents. 
Behold,  I  have  gained,  beside  them,  five  talents  more  :"  or  how 
ravishing  to  hear  him  reply,  "  Well  done,  good  and  faithful  ser- 
vant !  Thou  hast  been  faithful  over  a  few  things  :  I  will  make 
thee  ruler  over  many  things.  Enter  thou  into  the  joy  of  thy 
Lord?" 

How  delightful  will  it  then  be  to  have  believed  in  this  great 
Judge  of  angels  and  men ;  this  beloved  Son  of  God  ;  this  infi- 
nitely benevolent  Saviour?  How  delightful  to  have  walked 
blamelessly  in  all  his  commandments  and  ordinances  ;  and  to 
have  had  "  the  same  mind,  which  was  also  in"  him  !  How  sup- 
porting, on  that  solemn  day,  to  have  "  loved  God  with  all  the 
heart,  and  our  neighbour  as  ourselves ;"  to  have  continued  pa- 
tiently in  all  "  well  doing  ;"  and  thus  to  have  sought  effectually 
"  for  glory,  honour,  and  immortality  !"  How  honourable  to  have 
worn  the  image  of  God  ;  and  to  be  able  to  display  this  divine  re- 
semblance, as  unquestionable  proof  of  our  relation  to  him  ;  as 
acknowledged  evidence,  that  we  are  "  sons  and  daughters  to  the 
Lord  Almighty  !"  What  emotions  must  the  final  sentence  of 
approbation  excite  in  our  own  minds,  when  pronounced  on  us  ! 

At  the  same  time  how  dreadful  a  reverse  will  a  reproaching, 
angry  conscience,  a  frowning  Judge,  and  a  final  rejection  ;  erf- 


SER.  XXII.]  THE  FINAL  INTERVIEW.  335 

ate  in  a  mind  hurried,  convulsed  with  guilt,  and  overwhelmed  by 
despair  ?  How  will  the  self-ruined,  friendless,  hopeless,  apostate 
feel,  when  he  sees  the  time  arrived  ;  the  trial  finished  ;  the  sen- 
tence declared;  and  himself  driven  away  to  receive  the  terrible 
reward  1 

Of  what  value  will  the  scriptures  then  seem  to  have  been  ?  Of 
what  value  the  Sabbath;  the  Sanctuary  ;  the  privileges  of  pray- 
er, self-examination,  the  conversation  and  example  of  good  men, 
and  all  the  means  of  salvation  ?  How  much  to  be  prized  that 
little  life,  on  which  eternity  and  its  mighty  interests  were  sus- 
pended ?  How  wise  will  it  then  appear  to  have  hated  sin ;  to 
have  shunned  temptation  ;  and  to  have  resisted  the  fascinations 
of  riches  and  honour,  power  and  pleasure  ? 

How  soon  will  all  these  solemn  things  arrive  ?  Even  now  they 
are  at  the  door.  A  few  days  will  bring  them  to  every  member  of 
this  assembly.  How  plainly  ought  they  to  be  esteemed  of  the 
same  inestimable  importance  to  us,  this  day,  which  they  will  be 
seen  to  wear  beyond  the  grave  ? 

2dly.  How  interesting,  how  amazing,  will  all  eternal  things 
then  appear  ? 

Death,  the  Judgment,  Hell  and  its  sufferings.  Heaven  and  its 
endless  rewards,  the  awful  anger  of  God,  his  glorious  mercy  and 
unchangeable  love  :  all  these  things  will  then  become  real,  pres- 
ent ;  and  will  affect  the  imagination  as  deeply,  as  if  they  were 
now  present ;  and  reach  the  heart  in  spite  of  its  stupidity  and 
sin.  They  will  terrify  and  oppress  the  soul  with  all  the  sufferings 
of  perdition  ;  or  delight  it  with  the  possession  of  life  begun,  hap- 
piness realized,  and  glory  already  enjoyed.  These  will  then  be 
our  all.  The  present  world  will  then  have  retreated  forever  from 
our  view.  Time  will  have  numbered  all  its  hours ;  and  emptied 
its  glass  of  all  its  remaining  sands.  The  vast  world  to  which  we 
are  going,  will  have  opened  its  boundless  prospects  ;  its  everlast- 
ing enjoyments  and  sufferings.  The  day  will  then  have  dawned, 
to  which  no  evening  will  ever  arrive.  The  system  of  dispensa- 
tions will  then  have  commenced  to  which  there  can  be  no  con- 
clusion.    What  a  prospect  will  this  be  !     What  a  progress  of  be- 


336  ^W£  FINAL  INTERVIEW.  [SER.  XXII. 

ing  !  What  a  series  of  blessings  !  Or  what  a  succession  of  woes  ! 
What  will  it  then  be  to  find  God  disclosing  himself  to  us  with 
smiles  of  approbation,  and  with  favour  which  will  brighten  for- 
ever towards  supreme  and  meridian  glory  ? 

What  will  it  be  on  the  contrary,  to  find  the  same  God  "  a  con- 
suming fire,"  kindled  for  eternity,  and  destroying  finally  all  the 
workers  of  iniquity  ?  How  terrible  will  it  be  to  "  awake"  only 
"  to  shame  and  everlasting  contempt ;"  to  see  all  amiableness 
and  honour,  happiness  and  hope,  retiring  from  our  sight ;  to  be- 
hold ourselves  forever  guilty,  despised,  and  abhorred  ;  to  sink  un- 
der a  consciousness  of  our  debased  character ;  and,  casting  a 
despairing  eye  over  the  melancholy  world  of  darkness,  to  discern 
nothing  but  "  mourning,  lamentation,"  and  "  woe,"  without  mix- 
ture, and  without  end  ? 

3dly.  Hoiv  strange  is  it,  that  the  deaths  of  others  do  not  com- 
pel us  to  lay  to  heart  the  end  of  all  Vwing  ? 

Others  have  lived,  as  we  now  live  ;  have  sinned,  just  as  we  now 
sin  ;  and,  like  us,  have  resolved  to  repent,  and  reform,  and  live 
forever.  They  still  loved  the  pleasures  of  sin  ;  and  determined 
to  enjoy  them  for  a  season  ;  at  the  end  of  which  they  intended 
to  begin  their  Hves  anew.  But  this  season  began,  to  last  forever. 
No  to-morrow  of  repentance  followed  their  day  of  present  sin. 
Ever  near  to  the  intentional  penitent,  it  was  ever  one  day  before 
him,  until  it  vanished  in  eternity.  With  it,  the  repentance,  which 
it  seemed  to  bear  on  its  wings,  vanished  also  ;  and  vanished,  to 
appear  no  more. 

All  these  persons  hold  out  to  us  an  exact  picture  of  ourselves, 
while  travelhng  onward  in  the  bewildered  path  of  intentional  re- 
pentance and  reformation.  They  have  now  finished  their  connec- 
tion with  time,  and  sense ;  with  the  pleasures  which  they  loved, 
and  the  sins  which  they  "  rolled  as  sweet  morsels  under  their 
tongues."  With  these,  they  have  also  terminated  their  proba- 
tion, and  their  enjoyment  of  the  Means  of  Grace.  Where  are 
they  now  ?  What  are  now  their  views  of  the  conduct,  which 
they  pursued  in  the  present  world  ?  What,  if  they  were  permit- 
ted to  return,  would  probably  be  their  language  to  us  ? 


SER.  XXll.]  THE  FINAL  INTERVIEW.  :j37 

"  Poor,  unhappy,  deluded  mortals ;""  would  they  not  say  ? 
"  murk  our  conduct ;  and  consider  our  end.  We,  like  you,  were 
once  probationers  for  endless  life ;  were  trained  up  in  religion, 
and  educated  for  everlasting  joy.  All  the  nneans  and  hopes,  fur- 
nished by  the  Grace  of  God,  were  put  into  our  hands.  Like  you, 
we  were  blessed  with  the  word  of  God,  and  the  news  of  salvation, 
by  a  crucified  Redeemer !  The  Sabbath  weekly  dawned  upon 
us  with  the  smiles  of  love.  The  Sanctuary  opened  the  doors  of 
peace  and  praise,  of  prayer  and  faith,  of  repentance  and  holiness  ; 
and  invited  us  to  enter  in,  and  be  saved.  We  heard  the  calls  of 
mercy  ;  the  voice  of  a  pardoning  God,  a  dying  Saviour,  a  hea- 
venly Comforter,  reproving  us  for  our  sins,  and  charming  us  with 
divine  wisdom  to  return  and  live.  To  return  we  always  intend- 
ed ;  but  found  no  opportunity  :  and  were  ourselves  never  ready 
to  begin  this  indispensable  work.  The  pleasures  of  sense  fascin- 
ated our  hearts  :  and  we  found  nothing  in  repentance  to  engage 
our  affections,  or  invite  our  efforts.  The  day  fled  ;  and  with  it 
fled  every  call,  and  every  hope.  The  night  came,  to  which  no 
day  of  grace  ever  succeeded.  Our  end  will  be  yours.  Like  us 
you  live  :  like  us  you  will  die  :  and  O  like  us  you  are  preparing 
to  die  forever  '" 


SERMON  XXIII. 

eONSIDERATIONS  ON  THE  FINAL  TRIAL.— Sermon  1. 

EccLESiASTES  xii.   14. 

For  God  shall  bring  every  work  into  judgment,  with  every  se- 
cret thing,  whether  it  be  good,  or  ivhether  it  be  evil. 

This  verse  is  the  conclusion  of  one  of  the  most  extraordinary 
books,  which  the  world  has  ever  seen.  The  writer,  the  subject, 
and  the  mode  of  discussion,  are  all  of  a  remarkable  character. 
The  writer  was  the  wisest  of  all  men  ;  the  subject  is  the  supreme 
good  of  man  ;  and  the  mode  of  discussion  is  solemn,  impres- 
sive, and  happy,  without  a  parallel. 

No  man  was  ever  so  fitted  to  examine  this  subject.  It  is  hard- 
ly necessary,  to  observe  that  the  question,  In  what  consists  the  su- 
preme good  ?  has  been  almost  endlessly  discussed  by  a  great  va- 
riety of  ingenious  writers,  of  most  ages  and  countries,  distin- 
guished for  illumination.  The  question  has  been  answered  in  a 
vast  multitude  of  ways.  Varro  informs  us,  that,  within  his  knowl- 
edge, philosophers  had  adopted  concerning  this  subject  no  less 
than  two  hundred  and  eighty-eight  different  opinions.  Among 
these,  some  placed  it  in  quiet  of  mind  ;  others  in  rest  of  the  body ; 
some  in  knowledge  ;  others  in  wealth  ;  some  in  reputation  ;  oth- 
ers in  what  is  appropriately  called  pleasure  ;  and  others,  still,  in 
a  great  variety  of  other  objects.  The  most  prominent  of  these 
opinions  are  examined  in  this  book  ;  and  in  the  most  satisfactory 
manner  refuted.  For  this  employment  Solomon  was  not  only  fit- 
ted by  his  peculiar  wisdom,  his  extensive  acquaintance  with  the 
affairs  of  the  present  life,  and  his  enlarged  views  of  the  doctrines 
and  duties  of  religion,  but  by  his  own  experience  also;     No  man 


SER.  XXIII.]        CONSIDERATIONS  ON  THE  FINAL  TRIAL.  339 

ever  had  such  an  expeiimenta!  acquaintance  with  the  objects  and 
pleasures  of  science,  taste,  sense,  imagination,  refinement,  ambi- 
tion, avarice,  and  rehgion,  united.  At  the  same  time  he  was 
perfectly  disposed  and  qualified  to  enjoy  all  these  pleasures.  It 
is  truly  said  of  him,  nay  he  says  of  himself,  that  he  "  withheld 
not  his  heart  from  any  joy."  Thus,  whether  he  speaks  of  the 
aftairs  of  this  world  or  that  to  come,  the  pleasures  of  sense  or  the 
enjoyments  of  religion,  he  speaks,  as  far  as  this  can  be  done  by 
an  inhabitant  of  earth,  from  personal  experience.  His  observa- 
tions therefore  have  a  weight,  his  opinions  an  authority,  which 
cannot  be  claimed  by  those  of  any  other  man.  They  are  the  opin- 
ions of  one,  who  had  more  power,  than  could  be  challenged  at 
that  time  by  any  other  inhabitant  of  the  earth.  His  wisdom, 
fame,  wealth,  and  all  other  sources  of  sensual  enjoyment,  have 
never  been  rivalled.  Nor  were  his  attainments  in  Religion  small. 
We  may  well  wonder  indeed,  that  in  these  circumstances  he  should 
be  religious  at  all.  Yet  we  are  informed  by  Nehemiah,  that 
"  among  many  nations  there  was  no  king  like  him,  who  was  be- 
loved of  his  God." 

After  Solomon  has  gone  through  an  extensive  consideration  of 
the  various  branches  of  this  important  subject,  he  gives  us  the 
result  of  all  these  investigations  in  form.  "  Let  us  hear,"  says 
he,  "  the  conclusion  of  the  whole  matter ;"  or,  in  Hodgson\s 
more  exact  translation,  "  Let  us  hear  the  substance  of  all  that 
has  been  said.  Fear  God,  and  keep  his  commandments:  for 
this  is  all  that  concerneth  man."  To  this  infinitely  important 
declaration  the  text  is  subjoined,  as  a  proof  of  its  truth  which 
cannot  be  questioned  ;  and  as  a  reason,  to  enforce  its  importance 
on  the  mind,  which  cannot  be  resisted,  except  by  voluntary  blind- 
ness and  hardness  of  heart. 

In  this  passage  the  word  "  Work"  obviously  denotes  the  overt 
conduct  of  man,  his  words,  and  actions.  The  phrase  "  secret 
thing"  intends  the  thoughts,  and  affections  of  the  heart.  Or 
Wo7'ks  may  with  propriety  indicate  that,  ivhich  is  said,  and  done, 
before  mankind  /  and  secret  things,  that,  tt-hich  is  done  where  oth- 
ers neither  see,  nor  hear ;  whether  in  the  heart,  in  darkness,  or 


340  CONSIDERATIONS  ON  [SER.  XXIIi 

in  solitude.  According  to  either  mode  of  explanation  the  phrase  I 
ology  includes  every  thing,  which  we  think,  speak,  or  do.  Al  | 
this,  the  text  informs  us,  "  God  will  bring  into  judgment." 

With  this  explanation,  the  Doctrine,  contained  in  the  text,  i 
as  clearly  and  forcibly  declared,  as  it  can  be.     My  intention  in 
choosing  the  passage  as  the  theme  of  discourse,  at  the  present; 
time,  is  to  derive  from  it  the  following  plain,  practical,  solemn 
Remarks. 

1  St.  How  unprepared  arc  IFe,  in  all  prohahility,  for  this  dis- 
closure of  our  characters. 

Every  child  of  Adam  has,  probably,  done  many  things,  which 
he  would  not  have  known,  for  any  consideration,  to  his  fellow 
creatures.  Not  a  small  number  of  these  no  motive  would  per- 
suade him  to  discover  to  his  nearest  and  best  friends  ;  to  those  who 
would  regard  him  with  the  greatest  tenderness,  and  cast  the  most 
indulgent  eye  upon  his  failings.  Look  into  your  hearts ;  and 
see  whether  there  are  not  many  such  things  which  have  been 
done  by  you,  every  year,  every  month,  every  week,  nay  some,  at 
least,  every  day.  Of  these  there  are  in  all  probability  some, 
which,  if  they  were  to  be  disclosed  to  mankind,  or  even  to  an 
individual  friend,  would  overwhelm  us  with  shame,  dismay,  and 
anguish.  How  many  are  there,  think  you,  in  this  assembly,  who 
would  not  shrink  and  tremble  if  they  were  compelled  publicly  to 
utter  their  impious  thoughts  of  God  ;  their  unkind,  envious,  and 
ungrateful,  their  false,  and  fraudulent,  feelings  towards  their  fel- 
low men ;  or  their  impure  indulgences  of  a  licentious  imagina- 
tion, and  a  corrupted  heart  ?  Where  is  the  face  of  bronze,  that 
would  not  turn  pale  at  this  disclosure ;  or  the  heart  of  marble, 
that  would  not  dissolve  beneath  the  eyes  of  those  to  whom  it  was 
made  ?  Would  not  the  character  be  blasted ;  would  not  the 
hopes  wither ;  at  the  very  commencement  of  the  melancholy 
tale? 

How  many  of  these  thoughts  have  been  such,  as  we  have  nev- 
er dared  to  speak?  How  many  of  them,  designs,  which  we  should 
have  shuddered  to  execute  ?  Nay,  how  many  of  the  words  which 
we  have  spoken,  and  of  the  designs  which  we  have  executed, 


SER.  XXIII.]  THE  FINAL  TRIAL.  34  j 

■  have  been  in  our  own  view  so  guilty  and  so  shameful,  that  the 

^  only  peace,  which  we  can  find  when  remembering  them,  is  deri- 

|f  red  fiom  that  miserable  refuge  of  sin ;  that  they  are  known  only 

'■:  to  ourselves  ?  Were  we  to  be  informed,  that  a  disclosure  of  them 

was  about  to  be  made ;  would  not  the  information  probably  put 

an  end  to  our  peace  forever  ? 

But  if  it  would  be  distressing  to  a  degree  not  easily  compre- 
hensible, to  have  these  things  known  even  to  our  friends,  how 
much  greater  would  be  our  anguish  to  have  them  known  to  man- 
kind ?  What,  then,  must  be  our  emotions,  were  they  to  be  pub- 
lished to  the  assembled  universe  ?  What  a  triumph  will  it  be  to 
fiends,  to  see  the  race  of  Adam^  and  ourselves  perhaps  equally 
with  others,  holden  up  before  all  Intelligent  beings  in  so  odious, 
shameful,  and  humbling  a  light?  How  must  good  men  feel  for 
themselves ;  and  weep  for  others  ?  If  angels  can  weep ;  must 
not  their  tears  fall  over  such  a  recital  ? 

Above  all  things,  how  dreadful  must  it  be  to  have  this  disclo- 
sure made  before  the  eternal  God  ;  to  have  all  our  secret  as  well 
as  open  sins  "  set  in  the  light  of  his  countenance,"  and  in  this 
noonday  splendour  placed  in  order  before  our  eyes.  Infinitely 
more  important  to  us  will  His  views  of  our  character  be  than 
those  of  all  other  beings  united.  Proportionally  overwhelming 
will  it  be  to  see,  and  know,  and  feel,  that  our  whole  character  is 
naked  before  him,  and  our  sins  without  a  covering. 

In  addition  to  all  these  distresses,  we  ourselves  shall  he  compel- 
led to  make  this  humiliating  disclosure.  "  Every  one  of  us," 
says  St.  Paul,  "  shall  give  account  of  himself  to  God."  This 
discovery  of  our  character  would  be  terrible,  if  the  facts  were  all 
recorded  in  a  book,  and  read  over  in  our  hearing.  How  much 
more  distressing  must  it  be  for  the  unhappy  culprit  to  rehearse 
his  own  sins  before  "  the  Judge  of  the  quick  and  the  dead  ?" 
Whose  hps  would  not  tremble,  whose  heart  would  not  rend  asun- 
der, when  summoned  to  such  a  task  as  this  ?  Who  would  not 
stand  aghast,  when  he  saw  the  multitude  of  his  own  crimes ;  and 
marked  their  black  and  dreadful  die  ?  How  could  his  tongue  be- 
gin the  terrible  recital  ?  Where  and  when  could  it  end  ? 
'   Vol.  n.  44 


342  CONSIDERATIONS  ON  [SER.  XXIII 

But  the  one  half  of  this  distress  is  not  yet  told.  On  this  dis 
closure  our  final  sentence,  our  everlasting  reward,  will  be  found 
ed.  "  We  must  appear,"  says  St.  Paul,  "  before  the  judgmeni 
seat  of  Christ,  that  every  one  may  receive  the  things  done  in  his 
body,  according  to  what  he  hath  done,  whether  it  be  good,  or 
bad."  (II.  Cor.  v.  10.)  Of  all  the  anguish  suffered  on  this  side 
of  perdition,  none  will  be  so  excruciating  as  that  which  will  be 
excited  in  the  soul  of  a  sinner  by  his  account  of  his  own  sins ; 
given  with  a  full  conviction,  that  from  that  very  account  will  pro- 
ceed the  sentence  which  will  condemn  him  to  eternal  woe.  On 
this  tremendous  occasion  how  will  the  best  of  men  need  to  be 
supported  and  encouraged,  when  presenting  before  their  Judge 
the  innumerable  evils  which  even  they  have  committed  ?  How 
deeply  will  they,  feel  their  necessity  for  the  all-cleansing  blood  of 
the  Redeemer,  to  change  their  crimson  into  white  ? 

Should,  then,  the  judgment  be  set ;  and  the  books,  out  of  which 
mankind  "  will  be  judged  according  to  their  works,"  be  opened 
this  day  ;  is  it  not  plain  to  every  person  in  this  assembly,  that  he 
is  very  unhappily  prepared  for  such  an  exhibition  of  his  character  ? 

2dly.  What  a  mighty  change  will  then  be  made  in  the  state  of 
men. 

In  this  world  mankind  have  agreed  upon  certain  principles ; 
according  to  which  they  estimate  the  characters  of  their  fellow 
men,  and  yield  their  applause,  or  distribute  their  censures.  Those 
who  are  rich,  who  are  in  high  offices,  or  of  great  influence;  men 
of  genius,  learning,  and  eloquence  ;  the  splendid,  the  beautiful, 
and  the  polished  ;  the  brave,  and  the  powerful ;  are  regularly  the 
objects  of  admiration  and  praise.  The  poor,  on  the  contrary, 
the  weak,  the  defenceless,  the  dependant,  the  unpohshed,  and 
•the  ignorant,  are  neglected,  despised,  and  forgotten. 

But  there  a  far  different  mode  of  estimating  characters  will  be 
adopted.  There  all  will  be  tried  by  the  great  rule  of  good  and 
evil,  friendship  to  God  and  enmity,  faith  in  the  Redeemer  and 
unbelief. 

To  have  been  good,  here,  will,  be  to  be  happy  there ;  to  be 
rich,  honourable,  and  beloved.     To  have  been  evil,  here,  will  be 


SER.  XXIII.l  THE  FINAL  TRIAL.  343 

to  be  poor,  despised,  miserable,  "and  in  want  of  all  things,"  there,  j 
It  will  never  be  asked,  there,  whether  the  person,  who  is  a  candi- 
date for  shame  or  honour,  punishment  or  reward,  was  born  in  a 
palace  or  a  cottage  ;  sat  on  a  throne,  or  a  stool ;  owned  a  rood  or 
a  province ;  was  learned  or  ignorant,  eloquent  or  dumb.  It  will  , 
only  be  asked  whether  he  employed  such  powers  and  means  as 
were  given  to  him,  for  the  glory  of  God,  and  the  good  of  his  fel- 
low men. 

It  will  not  be  asked  whether  he  was  brave,  but  whether  he  was 
meek  ;  not  whether  he  was  renowned,  but  whether  he  was  hum- 
ble ;  not  whether  he  was  opulent,  but  whether  he  was  "  rich  in 
faith  and  good  works ;"  not  whether  he  acquired  applause  and 
glory,  but  whether  he  diligently  promoted  the  piety  and  the  hap- 
piness of  his  fellow  men. 

From  this  new  standard  of  estimation  mankind  will  be  divided 
into  classes,  totally  different  from  those  which  exist  in  the  present 
world.  Multitudes  of  the  rich,  the  great,  the  learned,  the  pol- 
ished, and  the  renowned  ;  will  appear  on  the  left  hand,  in  shame, 
and  want,  and  woe,  inexpressible.  Multitudes,  at  the  same  time, 
of  the  poor,  the  humble  and  the  despised,  will  appear  on  the 
right  hand,  invested  with  glory ^  honour^  and  immortality.  You 
are  not  however  to  understand,  because  it  is  not  true,  that  the 
possession  of  wealth,  power,  refinement,  learning,  and  distinc- 
tion, in  this  world,  will,  in  that,  be  considered  as  a  crime  ;  or  be- 
come to  any  man  the  foundation  of  future  shame  and  punish- 
ment. It  will  not  be  the  possession  of  these  things,  but  the  man- 
ner in  which  they  were  desired,  sought,  or  used,  which  will  prove 
the  source  of  condemnation  to  the  guilty  possessors.  Multitudes 
of  the  rich,  the  great,  and  the  polished,  will  find  their  "  names 
written  in  the  Lamb's  book  of  life ;"  and  be  received  with  "  an  open 
and  abundance  entrance"  into  the  favor  of  God.  Still  it  will  be 
seen  in  a  terrible  manner,  that  those,  who  here  would  be  rich,  fell 
almost  of  course  "  into  temptation  and  a  snare,"  and  "  into  ma- 
ny hurtful  and  corrupt  lusts,  which  drowned"  them  "  in  destruc- 
tion and  perdition."  Yet  it  will  be  found  that  some  of  this  num- 
ber "  trusted  not  in  uncertain  riches,  but  in  the  living  God  ;  that 


344  CONSIDERATIONS  ON  [SER.  XXIII. 

they  did  good,"  and  were  "  rich  in  good  works  ;"  were  "  ready 
to  distribute  and  willing  to  communicate  ;"  and  tiiat  thus  they 
"  laid  up  in  store  for  themselves  a  good  foundation  against  the 
time  to  come,  and  laid  hold  on  eternal  life."  On  the  contrary 
poverty,  ignorance,  and  degradation,  in  this  world,  will  constitute 
no  part  of  the  reasons  for  which  those,  who  have  suffered  these 
things,  will  be  accepted  in  that.  They  will  be  accepted,  because 
they  have  been  "  poor  in  spirit ;"  because  they  have  been  humble 
followers  of  the  Redeemer  ;  because  they  have  loved  and  served 
God  :  Those,  who  have  not  done  these  things,  however  degraded 
and  beggared  in  this  world  will  at  the  final  day  sink  into  poverty 
and  wretchedness,  inconceivably  more  distresssing. 

From  this  mode  of  estimating  characters,  also,  most  afflicting 
distinctions  will  be  made  among  those  who  have  lived  in  the  same 
condition,  the  same  circumstances,  the  same  neighbourhood,  the 
same  house  ;  who  have  been  members  of  the  same  congregation, 
the  same  class,  the  same  family.  Of  all  these  "  one  will  be  taken, 
and  another  left."  When  David  smote  Moab,  "  he  measured 
them  with  a  line,  casting  them  down  to  the  ground.  With  two 
lines  measured  he,  to.  put  to  death,  and  with  one  full  line  to  keep 
alive."  A  process,  in  effect  resembling  this  awful  procedure, 
will  be  adopted  at  the  final  day.  Persons,  united  by  the  tender- 
est  ties  of  life  and  the  strongest  bonds  of  affection,  will  there  be 
separated  forever.  Eli  will  no  more  be  united  to  his  sons ;  nor 
Samuel  to  his.  David  will  be  finally  separated  from  Amnon  and 
Absalom  ;  Hezekiah  from  Ahaz  ,•  and  Jusiah  from  Ainon.  These, 
melancholy  to  think,  are  not  exempt  cases.  They  are  not  even 
extraordinary.  The  nearest  friends  now,  as  truly  as  then,  and 
probably  as  often,  will  be  sundered  in  this  manner.  Which  of 
those,  who  are  before  me,  intends  at  this  awful  season  to  see  his 
companions  and  classmates  on  the  right  hand,  arrayed  in  immor- 
tal glory,  and  to  take  his  own  miserable  station  on  the  left  ? 
What  brother  is  prepared  in  this  manner  to  part  from  his  beloved 
brothers  ?  What  sister,  regarded  here  with  intense  affection, 
will  be  able  to  open  her  hps,  and  pronounce  to  her  sisters  the 
eternal  farewell  ?     What  parents  can  sustain  even  the  thought, 


SER.  XXIIL]  THE  FINAL  TRIAL.  345 

that  between  themselves  and  their  children,  what  children,  that 
between  them  and  their  parents,  a  gulf  w'lW  now  he  fixed,  which 
neither  "  will  be  able  to  pass"  forever.  When  this  terrible  dis- 
tinction shall  be  made,  what  will  be  the  looks,  mutually  cast  by 
the  affectionate  husband  and  wife  ;  what  the  throes,  which  will 
agonize  their  bosoms  ? 

Even  these  are  not  the  only  separations  w^hich  will  be  made. 
This  dreadful  discrimination  will  be  extended  also  to  those,  who 
have  worshipped  in  the  same  house  of  God  ;  communed  at  the 
same  sacramental  table  ;  and  preached  in  the  same  desk.  Judas 
and  Peter  were  commissioned  to  preach  by  the  Saviour  himself. 
Where  are  they  now?  What  separations  have  probably  been 
made  in  the  members  of  the  church  at  Cor'mtli  ?  How  melan- 
choly a  thought,  that  these  have  been  repeated  in  every  church 
which  has  existed,  from  that  period  to  the  present  hour  ?  What 
solemn  impressions  ought  this  awful  consideration  to  make  upon 
our  hearts,  when  we  enter  the  desk,  or  sit  down  at  the  table  of 
Christ  ? 

When  this  new  standard  of  character  shall  be  made  the  great 
rule  of  distinction,  strange  separations  will  also  be  made  in  the 
various  classes  or  sects,  who  have  worn  the  name,  and  professed 
the  religion,  of  Christians.  Such  sects,  here,  are  often  inclined 
to  challenge  the  Christian  character  exclusively  to  themselves. 
All,  who  differ  from  them  in  name,  or  forms  of  worship,  some 
sects  have  considered  as  doubtful  candidates  for  eternal  life  : 
while  others  have  put  them  without  the  covenant  of  grace,  and 
beyond  the  hope  of  salvation.  This  assumption  of  exclusive  rec- 
titude, this  separate  claim  to  the  divine  favour,  this  substantial  ex- 
communication of  those  who  differ  from  us,  is  probably  as  old  as 
the  distinctions  of  character,  which  furnished  an  opportunity  for 
forming  these  opinions.  Among  the  Jews,  who  were  called  to  be 
"  a  chosen  and  peculiar  people  unto  God,"  this  character  existed 
and  operated  with  its  full  force  ;  and  with  better  reasons  to  justi- 
fy it,  than  can  be  alleged  by  any  other  class  of  men.  They  were 
informed  by  Inspiration  itself,  that  they  were  separated  from  all 
nations,  as  the  favourite  people  of  Jehovah  ;  and  that  they  were 


346  CONSIDERATIONS  ON  [SER.  XXIIJ. 

the  seed  of  Abraham,  his  friend.  The  rest  of  mankind,  they 
knew,  were  almost  universally  idolaters,  "  in  the  gall  of  bitter- 
ness, and  the  bond  of  iniquity." 

But  John  the  Baptist  informed  them,  that  they  must  not  "  think 
to  say  within  themselves,  'We  have  Abraham  for  our  father;'  " 
and  that  "  God  was  able  of  the  stones  to  raise  up  children  unto 
Abraham."  Christ,  also,  told  them,  that  they  should  "  weep,  and 
gnash  their  teeth,  when  they  saw  Abraham,  and  Isaac,  and  Ja- 
cob, and  all  the  prophets,  sit  down  in  the  kingdom  of  God,  and 
themselves  thrust  out ;  that  many  should  come  from  the  east  and 
the  west,  from  the  north  and  the  south,  and  sit  down  in  the  king- 
dom of  God  ;"  and  that  "  there  were  last,  who  should  be  first, 
and  first,  who  should  be  last." 

St.  Peter,  whose  prejudices  against  the  Gentiles  were  the  ?ame 
with  those  of  his  countrymen,  was  taught  the  groundless  nature 
of  this  opinion  by  the  miracle  of  "  the  vessel,  resembhng  a  great 
sheet,"  which  was  "  let  down  to  him."  From  this  vision  he  first 
began  to  learn,  that  "  whatever  God  had  cleansed  was  clean." 
Accordingly  he  solemnly  renounced  his  former  prejudices  on  this 
subject ;  and  declared,  as  the  Scriptures  of  the  Old  Testament 
had  long  before  done,  that  "  God  is  no  respecter  of  persons ;" 
and  "  that  in  every  nation  he  who  worketh  righteousness  will  be 
accepted." 

It  is  a  melancholy  subject  of  reflection,  that,  with  the  Gospel 
in  our  hands,  we  should  be  unwilling  to  adopt  the  same  equitable 
rule,  as  the  standard  of  acceptance  with  God  ;  and  that  we  should 
still  think  it  enough  to  have  Abraham  for  our  father.  That  both 
these  things  are  extensively  done  cannot  with  decency  be  denied. 
Multitudes,  plainly  build  their  hopes  on  a  foundation  of  this  san- 
dy nature :  while  other  multitudes,  as  well  as  they,  are  scarcely 
willing  to  think  favourably  of  those,  who  in  things,  which  the 
Scriptures  regard  as  unessential  to  the  Christian  character  and 
justification  of  life,  differ  from  themselves. 

But  "  in  the  day  when  God  shall  judge  the  secrets  of  men,"  he 
will  judge  the  world  according  to  his  own  rule,  and  not  according 
to  ours.    Then  he,  who  is  found  to  have  believed  on  the  Lord 


SER.  XXIII.]  THE  FINAL  TRIAL,  347 

Jesus  Christ,  will  be  saved  ;  in  whatever  church  he  has  been  bap- 
tized, or  has  worshipped.  Nay,  if  with  the  thief  on  the  cross  he 
has  not  had  an  opportunity  of  being  baptized  at  all,  his  soul  will 
still  be  found  with  Christ  in  Paradise. 

How  vast,  then,  will  be  the  difference,  made  among  mankind 
by  the  righteous  judgment  of  God,  from  that  which  is  made  by 
us  ?  How  surprisingly  will  their  characters,  circumstances,  and 
allotments,  vary  from  those  which  have  been  formed  in  our  pre- 
conceptions ?  What  multitudes  of  grave,  decent  men,  who  have 
confidently  expected  salvation  from  the  numbers,  splendour,  and 
dignity,  of  the  churches,  to  which  they  have  been  united,  and 
their  regular  performance  of  the  worship  and  duties  prescribed  by 
them,  will  find  that  all  this  "bodily  exercise"  has  "  profited  them 
little;"  and  that  "godHness"  only,  "has  the  promise  of  the  life 
which  is  to  come  V  On  the  contrary,  what  vast  numbers  of  zeal- 
ous enthusiasts,  who  here  condemn  all  others  as  heretics  and  out- 
casts, who  do  not  unite  with  them  in  their  wild  rhapsodies,  and 
profess  the  same  internal  light  and  extraordinary  communica- 
tions, from  heaven,  will  find  their  zeal  "a  fire  of  their  own  kind- 
ling ;"  and,  notwithstanding  their  high  hopes  and  magnificent 
promises  of  life  beyond  the  grave,  will  lie  down  in  sorrow.^  How 
many  of  every  class,  name,  and  profession,  who  have  relied  on 
the  peculiarities  of  their  class,  their  name,  and  their  profession, 
will  find  these  things  wood,  hay,  and  stubble  ?  How  many  individ- 
uals, who  unchurch  their  neighbours  because  they  differ  from 
them  in  opinions  of  comparatively  little  moment,  or  even  in  man- 
ners, nay  in  dress,  will  at  this  great  disclosure  see  them  shine 
forth  as  real  Christians,  and  themselves  detected  as  mere  preten- 
ders, possessing  only  the  hope  of  the  hypocrite  ? 

Sdly.  At  this  solemn  period  the  difference  between  the  right- 
eous and  the  wicked  will  be  seen  to  be  far  greater,  than  is  common- 
ly believed  in  the  present  world. 

In  this  world  the  external  appearance  of  the  righteous  and  the 
wicked  is  often  nearly  the  same.  Evil  men  often  labour  with 
great  pains  to  acquire  reputation  by  assuming  the  character 
and  conduct  of  the  virtuous  ;  and  in  many  instances  with  success. 


348  CONSIDARATIONS  ON  [SER.  XXIIf. 

Their  vice  is  extensively  concealed  from  the  public  eye,  and  not 
unfrequently  from  the  eye  of  their  friends.  Judas  was  believed 
by  his  fellow  apostles  not  only  to  be  a  real,  but  an  eminent,  chris- 
tian. When  Christ  predicted,  that  one  of  the  number  should 
betray  him  ;  all  his  companions  distrusted  themselves  rather  than 
Judas  ;  and  every  one  said,  "  Lord,  Is  it  I?  Lord  Is  it  I  ?"" 

Hypocrisy  is,  as  is  said  by  the  great  English  poet,  "  The  only 
evil,  which  walks  unseen  by  all  but  the  eye  of  God."  No  human 
optics  can  pierce  through  the  thick  covering,  spread  by  skilful 
hypocrisy,  as  a  shroud  of  darkness,  over  its  designs.  No  saga- 
city can  trace  the  windings,  the  hidden  paths,  the  insidious  meas- 
ures, of  this  snaky  agent. 

Beyond  this,  in  cases  where  no  peculiar  hypocrisy  is  exerted 
or  intended,  there  are  innumerable  causes  of  concealment  and 
illusion,  which  prevent  us  from  knowing,  in  many  respects,  the 
real  character  of  multitudes  around  us.  The  character  even  of 
neighbouring  families,  their  peculiar  interests,  their  internal  pur- 
suits, and  the  disposition  of  their  several  members  manifested  in 
those  pursuits  ;  are  often  chiefly  unknown  by  us,  and  widely  mis- 
taken. A  servant,  who  comes  from  another  family  to  live  in  our 
own,  will  not  unfrequently  force  upon  us,  however  disposed  to 
construe  charitably,  or  indisposed  to  hsten  to  the  tale,  various 
apprehensions  concerning  that  family,  which  we  never  entertain- 
ed before.  Not  unfrequently  we  ourselves  become  members  of 
such  families.  In  such  cases  we  find  them,  in  some  instances  at 
least,  to  possess,  in  several  respects,  a  character  widely  different 
from  that  which  they  had  before  exhibited  or  we  mistrusted. 

Individuals  also,  even  those  with  whom  we  live  in  habits  of 
intimacy,  often  conceal  from  us  much  of  their  real  character. 
We  sometimes  love  them  long,  and  esteem  Ihem  highly ;  and 
find  afterwards  that  they  had  no  claims  either  to  be  loved  or  es- 
teemed. We  trust  those,  who  after  long-continued  familiarity 
deceive  us.  We  respect  those,  who  ultimately  become  objects 
of  our  contempt.  We  befriend  those,  who,  after  receiving  from 
us  a  numerous  train  of  kind  offices,  requite  us  with  ingratitude.  ' 
How  often  do  we  hear  our  fellow  men  say,  how  often  do  we  say 


SER.  XXIII.]  THE  FINAL  TRIAL.  349 

ourselves,  when  some  mean,  base,  dishonest  action  is  rehearsed 
concerning  a  person  of  our  acquaintance,  some  ungenerous  ex- 
hibition of  covetousness,  some  gross  act  of  unkindness,  some 
treachery  to  a  friend,  some  sordid  specimen  of  pride  or  ambi- 
tion, "  I  am  greatly  disappointed  in  that  man.  I  could  not  have 
thought,  that  he  would  be  guilty  of  such  an  action."  The  voice 
of  Omniscience  has  declared,  and  it  ought  never  to  be  forgotten 
by  us,  that  "  the  heart,"  the  heart  of  man,  the  heart  of  ourselves 
and  of  all  others,  "  is  deceitful  above  all  things,  and  desperately 
wicked.     Who  can  know  it  ?" 

From  this  hypocrisy,  this  concealment  of  character,  springs 
that  extensive  jealousy,  which  is  entertained  by  mankind  respect- 
ing each  other.  From  being  often  deceived  we  learn  to  dis- 
trust ;  and  ultimately  to  distrust  almost  all  men  ;  even  neighbours 
and  friends,  ministers  and  magistrates.  From  this  cause  the  very 
best  of  our  race ;  those  who  have  given  the  most  decisive  proofs 
of  integrity  and  piety ;  are  still  doubted  by  multitudes.  Nay  it 
still  remains  a  question  with  some,  whether  there  are  any  real 
Christians  ;  any  persons  of  genuine  piety.  Worldly  men  often 
deny  the  fact  altogether.  Even  Christians  are  not  unfrequently 
doubtful  of  their  fellow  Christians. 

I  readily  acknowledge,  that  mankind  are  unreasonably  dispo- 
sed to  jealousy ;  and  that  jealousy  is  an  unreasonable  passion. 
Still  it  cannot  be  rationally  believed,  that,  if  hypocrisy  were  un- 
known ;  and  deceit  unpractised  ;  jealousy,  such  as  this,  would 
ind  a  place  in  the  human  bosom. 

It  ought  here  to  be  added,  that  genuine  Christianity  from  its 
own  nature  "  vaunteth  not  herself,  and  is  not  puffed  up."  Chris- 
tianity unaccompanied  by  foreign  appendages,  is  always  modest, 
anassuming  and  self-denying.  Boasting,  we  have  long  since 
jeen  told  "  is  excluded  by  the  law  of  faith.  The  kingdom  of 
GrOD  in  the  heart  cometh  not  with  observation  ;"  and  none  are 
iisposed  to  say  concerning  it,  "  Lo  here,"  or  "  lo  there."  Hence 
he  Christian,  uninclined  to  make  a  display  of  his  excellence,  and 
nore  willing  to  be,  than  to  seem,  religious,  rarely  becomes  an 
)bject  of  very  favourable  inspection  to  mankind  ;  and  not  unfre- 

VoL.  If.  45 


350  CONSIDERATIONS  ON  [SER.  XXIIi. 

quently  sees  his  true  character  unknown,  as  well  as  unacknowl- 
edged. The  HyjDocrite,  at  the  same  time,  is  always  employed  in 
soliciting  for  himself  the  character  of  a  Christian.  Hence,  when 
a  weak  man,  he  makes  a  perpetual  parade  of  his  discoveries,  his 
gifts,  and  his  attainments.  When  a  sagacious  man,  he  discerns 
that  this  bald  exhibition  must  disappoint  itself;  and  resorts,  there- 
fore, to  measures  less  exposed  to  scrutiny :  and  these  are  often 
so  well  devised,  so  specious,  so  like  the  humble,  meek,  and  gen- 
tle, character  of  Christianity,  as  to  pass  usually  without  suspicion. 

But,  when  "  the  secrets  of  all  hearts  shall  be  revealed,"  these 
fetches  and  concealments,  these  pretences  and  resemblances, 
will  entirely  vanish.  The  Hypocrite,  the  merely  decent  professor 
of  Christianity,  will  stand  forth  in  all  his  native  deformity ;  and 
will  be  seen  as  he  is  ;  a  gross  and  dreadful  sinner.  His  hypocri- 
sy will  only  render  him  more  guilty  and  more  odious,  more  abom- 
inable in  the  sight  of  God  and  more  despicable  in  that  of  the 
virtuous  universe. 

At  this  time,  the  "  meek  and  lowly"  Christian  will  appear  more 
excellent  and  amiable  by  means  of  his  former  modest,  self-deny- 
ing deportment.  He  will  now  be  acknowledged  before  the  as- 
sembled universe  as  the  friend  of  God  and  of  man  ;  as  the  follow- 
er of  Christ ;  as  voluntarily  consecrated  to  the  great  cause  of 
truth  and  of  righteousness.  As  such,  Christ  will  not  be  ashamed 
to  receive  and  confess  him ;  and  will  on  the  best  grounds  wel-  i 
come  him  to  his  arms,  his  kingdom,  and  his  blessings  :  While  at 
the  same  time,  and  with  equal  propriety,  he  will  say  to  all  those, 
who  have  merely  assumed  the  character,  as  a  cloak  for  their  sin- 
ister and  base  designs,  "  Depart,  ye  cursed,  into  everlasting  fire, 
prepared  for  the  devil  and  his  angels." 

Among  the  things,  which  will  pre-eminently  contribute  to  make 
this  separation  clear,  and  this  contrast  incalculably  impressive, 
this  will  be  one  :  Mankind,  nay  the  whole  Intelligent  universe, 
will  be  forced  to  see  the  immeasurahle  distance  between  truth  and 
falsehood^  holiness  and  sin.  In  the  present  world  this  difference 
is  often  denied ;  often  considered  as  insignificant ;  and  usually] 
feebly  felt  and  dimly  perceived. 


SER.  XXIII.]  THE  FINAL  TRIAL.  351 

Than  these  no  opinions  can  be  more  groundless,  false,  and  un- 
happy. Between  the  objects  in  question  the  difference  is  infinite. 
The  love  of  truth  and  holiness  on  the  one  hand,  and  the  love  of 
falsehood  and  sin  on  the  other,  constitute  the  whole  moral  dis- 
tinction between  Gabriel  and  Satan,  between  Paul  and  Judas. 
Nay  the  love  of  truth  and  holiness  forms  the  whole  moral  beauty 
and  greatness  of  Jehovah  ;  and  constitutes  the  boundless  differ- 
ence between  his  infinitely  perfect  character,  and  that  of  a  being 
equally  powerful  and  immensely  malevolent.  Truth  obeyed,  and 
holiness  practised,  are  the  cause  and  the  amount  of  the  celestial 
glory.  They  form  heaven  :  they  create  the  angehc  character : 
they  will  generate  throughout  eternity  the  endlessly  progressive 
happiness  of  the  Intelligent  universe.  Falsehood  obeyed,  and 
sin  pursued,  would  make  the  universe  eternally  miserable  ;  and 
will  in  fact  produce,  to  a  great  extent,  the  misery  of  hell.  This 
immense  difference  will  now  be  seen  in  a  full,  overwhelming 
light :  and  so  different  will  appear  the  characters  of  the  friends 
and  the  enemies  of  God.  In  the  language  of  the  prophet  Mala- 
chi^  Mankind  "  will  return,  and  discern  between  the  righteous  and 
the  wicked,  between  him  that  serveth  God,  and  him  that  serveth 
him  not."     But  "  a  book  of  remembrance"  will  be  found  for 

J  "  those,  who  feared  the  Lord,  and  thought  upon  his  name.  '  And 
they  shall  be  mine,'  saith  the  Lord  of  Hosts,  '  in  the  day  when  I 
make  up  my  jewels ;  and  I  will  spare  them,  as  a  man  spareth  his 

I  own  son  that  serveth  him.'" 


SERMON  XXIV. 

CONSIDERATIONS  ON  THE  FINAL  TRIAL.— Sermon  II. 

ECCLESIASTES  xii.   14. 

For  God  shall  bring  every  work  into  judgment^  with  every  secret 
thing.,  whether  it  he  good.,  or  whether  it  be  evil. 

In  the  former  part  of  this  discourse,  after  explaining  the  text,  I 
proposed  to  derive  from  the  doctrine  which  it  contains,  several 
observations.     Of  these  I  mentioned  the  following  : — 

1st.  How  iinprei)aj'cd  are  we.,  in  all  probability ,  for  the  disclo- 
sure of  our  characters.,  indicated  in  this  passage  of  Scripture. 

2dly.  What  a  mighty_  cliange  icill,  in  consequence  of  this  dis- 
closure, be  made  in  the  state  of  men. 

3dly.  On  the  solemn  day  when  this  disclosure  shall  be  made^l 
the  difference  between  the  righteous  and  the  wicked  will  be  seem 
to  be  far  greater,  than  is  commonly  believed  in  the  present  world. 

I  will  now  proceed  to  finish  the  design,  with  which  I  selected 
this  passage  of  Scripture,  as  the  theme  of  our  meditations  at  the  "J^ 
present  time,  and  observe, 

4thly.  That  our  own  character  will  appear  to  us  widely  differ- 1 
entfrom  what  we  have  been  accustomed  to  believe  it  in  the  present  f 
world. 

Every  person,  who  has  read  the  Bible  with  any  attention,  must 
have  remarked  that  it  presents  very  different  views  of  the  human 
character  from  those  which  we  and  our  fellow  men  are  ready  to 
entertain.  Every  such  person  must  have  perceived,  that  man  is 
there  exhibited  as  far  more  sinful  than  he  has  been  accustomed 
to  imagine.  Probably,  very  few  have  risen  from  reading  the  two 
first  chapters  of  the  epistle  to  the  /Romans,  without  feeling  that 


SER.  XXIV.]      CONSIDERATIONS  ON  THE  FINAL  TRIAL.  353 

they  present  views  of  human  nature  far  more  gross,  odious,  and 
humihating,  than  they  can  easily  admit  to  be  just.  Particularly, 
there  are  few  who  do  not  secretly  refuse  to  apply  this  description 
of  the  human  character  to  themselves,  and  rejoice  that  it  is  not 
their  own  character.  I  do  not  intend,  that  we  rejoice  because 
we  are  not  heathen  and  idolaters;  or  because  we  are  not  Jews 
and  reprobates  ;  but  because  we  have  not  the  same  sinful  nature, 
that  gave  birth  to  the  several  gross  crimes,  which  form  this  pain- 
ful description  of  man  as  a  moral  being. 

When  we  read  in  the  prophet  Jeremiah^  this  declaration  ;  "  The 
heart  is  deceitful  above  all  things,  and  desperately  wicked  ;  Who 
can  know  it  ?"  we  are  rarely  willing,  though  it  is  uttered  by  God 
himself,  to  believe  it  true  in  its  full  import,  even  concerning  our 
fellow-men.  Much  less  are  we  ready  to  mistrust,  that  our  own 
hearts  are  thus  deceitful,  and  thus  wicked. 

Few  employments  can  be  more  useful,  or  more  necessary,  for 
such  beings  as  we  are,  than  to  inquire  why  our  views  of  this  sub- 
ject differ  so  widely  from  the  views  of  Him,  "  who  searcheth  the 
hearts,  and  trieth  the  reins  of  the  children  of  men."  That  his 
must  be  right ;  that  ours,  so  far  as  they  differ  from  his,  must  be 
wrong ;  can  need  neither  proof  nor  explanation.  Nor  is  it  less 
evident  that,  whenever  our  apprehensions  of  a  subject,  so  impor- 
tant, and  so  practical,  are  wrong,  they  must  be  injurious,  and  may 
be  fatal. 

Among  the  reasons  which  lead  us  to  false  views  of  our  own 
character,  the  following  deserve  our  very  serious  attention. 

First.  We  are  so  accustomed  to  the  perpetration  of  iniquity, 
that  we  often  sin  without  being  conscious  of  it,  even  at  the  time  of 
transgressing. 

To  commit  sin  is,  with  us,  a  thing  of  course  ;  a  thing  done  by 
all  men  every  day,  and  by  most,  every  hour,  and  every  moment. 
It  enters  into  all  our  habits  of  thinking  and  acting  ;  and,  in  unre- 
newed men,  is  the  sum  and  substance  of  every  moral  habit.  Even 
renewed  men  sin  incomparably  oftener  than  they  are  ready  to 
believe.  But,  whatever  is  thus  habitual,  and  therefore  continual, 
naturally  ceases  to  be  an  object  of  particular  attention  ;  and,  to 
a  great  extent,  of  any  attention  at  all. 


354  CONSIDERATIONS  ON  [SER.  XXIV. 

Besides,  to  attend  critically  every  moment  is  altogether  too 
wearisome  an  employment  to  beings,  who  are  subjects  of  so 
much  sloth  of  mind  as  men.  Few  persons,  comparatively,  are 
willing  to  attend  critically,  at  all.  Fewer,  by  far,  can  bring  them- 
selves to  undergo  so  much  mental  labour  as  is  involved  in  that 
perpetual  attention,  which  is  absolutely  necessary  to  make  us  ac- 
quainted either  with  our  hearts,  or  with  our  lives. 

Further,  we  rarely  attend  minutely  to  objects  which  give  us 
pain ;  unless  when  we  cannot  avoid  it.  Our  moral  character  is 
always  a  painful  object  to  us,  so  far  as  we  either  are,  or  believe 
ourselves  to  be,  sinful.  Self-examination  is  terrible  to  wicked 
men ;  and  is  rarely  taken  up  in  such  a  manner  as  to  be  of  any 
use  to  them,  whenever  they  can  find  a  way  to  escape  :  and,  un- 
happily, an  escape  is  almost  always  in  their  power. 

In  addition  to  all  this,  we  form  at  very  early  periods  of  hfe  such 
favourable  opinions  of  our  character,  as  persuade  us  that  it  is  un- 
necessary to  undergo  this  labour  and  pain  ;  and  therefore  feel 
justified  in  neglecting  to  scrutinize  our  conduct. 

Finally,  we  form  such  gross  conceptions  of  the  divine  law,  of 
its  extent,  spirituality,  exactness,  and  perfection  ;  and  thus  possess 
such  apprehensions  of  what  it  requires,  and  what  it  prohibits ; 
that  we  are  v^ry  often  ignorant  of  the  true  nature  of  our  moral 
conduct.  The  commandment  does  not  come  to  us,  as  it  did  to 
Paul ;  and  therefore  we  do  not  see  our  sins,  as  he  saw  his. 
Hence,  as  our  moral  standard  is  very  low,  (far  lower  than  that  of 
the  Gospel,)  we  sin,  without  mistrusting,  that  we  sin  ;  not  ima- 
gining, that  such  things  as  we  do,  are  forbidden,  or  that  such  as 
we  omit,  are  required  by  the  commands  of  God. 

From  all  these  causes  it  comes  to  pass,  that  we  commit  innu- 
merable sins  of  which  we  have  little  or  no  knowledge,  or  even 
suspicion,  at  the  very  time  when  they  are  committed.  Of  course, 
none  of  these  ever  enter  into  the  estimate  which  we  form  of  our 
moral  character. 

Secondly.  We  think  so  lightly  of  the  guilt  of  sin,  that  we  never 
mistrust  the  greattiess  of  our  own  guilt  in  those  sins  which  we 
ftre  conscious  of  committing. 


SER.  XXIV.]  THE  FINAL  TRIAL.  355 

One  of  the  most  difficult  attempts  of  man,  is  to  adopt,  without 
any  diminution,  those  representations  which  are  made  concern- 
ing the  guilt  of  sin  in  the  Scriptures.  It  is  with  vast  reluctance, 
that  he  can  believe  himself  to  be  so  "  abominable  and  filthy"  in 
the  sight  of  God,  notwithstanding  "  he  drinks  iniquity  like  water." 
This,  also,  is  a  fruitful  source  of  unwarrantably  favourable  esti- 
mates concerning  our  character. 

Thirdly.  As  we  never  think  ill  of  ourselves  nnlcss  ivhen  com- 
pelled^ and  as,  then,  we  believe  ourselves  to  be  vile  and  guilty, 
only  with  extreme  reluctance,  mortification,  and  regret ;  so,  of 
choice,  we  thrust  out  of  our  remembrance  as  many  of  our  trans- 
gressions, as  we  can. 

This  is  an  employment,  in  which  we  are  but  too  successful.  In 
the  progress  of  it  we  are  able  to  forget,  and  do  actually  forget,  a 
great  multitude  of  the  evils  which  we  have  perpetrated. 

Fourthly.  For  the  same  reason  we  palliate  and  lessen,  the  real 
guilt  of  such  sins,  as  we  are  conscious  of  committing  ;  and  hence 
th{nkfar  less  hardly  and  less  justly  of  our  sinfid  character,  than 
truth  requires. 

How  often  do  we  hear  others  excuse  their  sins  by  ascribing 
them  to  their  infirmities,  temptations,  and  the  difficulties  which 
stand  in  the  way  of  their  duty.  How  often  have  we  alleged  the 
same  difficulties,  as  excuses  for  our  own.  These  pleas  are  made 
by  very  gross  transgressors.  The  profane  swearer  says,  and  in- 
tends materially  to  lessen  his  guilt,  both  in  his  own  eyes  and  ourSy 
while  he  says,  that  he  cannot  avoid  swearing  profanely.  The 
drunkard  pleads  his  invincible  attachment  to  strong  drink.  The 
lewd  man  tells  you,  that  his  inclinations  are  natural ;  and  the  re- 
vengeful man,  that  his  wrath  is  too  violent  and  painful,  to  be 
subdued.  All  these  persuade  themselves,  and  hope  to  persuade 
others,  that  they  are  at  least  partially,  if  not  absolutely,  justified. 
In  a  similar  manner,  sinners  of  every  description  have  their  excu- 
ses ;  which,  they  believe,  will  render  them  in  some  good  measure 
innocent. 

Fifthly.  We  see  others  sin  ;  and  from  their  example  and  num- 
ber persuade  ourselves,  that  we  are  far  less  guilty  than  ive  really 
are. 


356  CONSIDERATIONS  ON  [SER.  XXIV. 

That  others  are  as  bad  or  worse  than  we,  obviously  deceitful 
as  the  argument  is,  has  ever  been,  and,  while  the  mind  continues 
to  love  sin,  will  probably  ever  be,  a  consolation,  a  support,  which 
will  prop  the  sinner  in  his  pursuit  of  iniquity  ;  and  induce  him, 
with  a  deplorable  self-flattery  to  think  his  sins  far  less  numerous 
and  far  less  gross,  than  they  are  declared  to  be  in  the  Word  of 
God. 

For  these  and  other  similar  reasons,  our  real  character  is  in  a 
great  measure  hidden  from  our  view  ;  and  by  most  men  the  guilt, 
which  they  have  incurred,  is  probably  never  mistrusted  on  this 
side  of  the  grave.  This  spirit,  drawn  out  into  the  several  acts 
which  1  have  mentioned,  and  into  others  of  a  similar  nature,  is 
what  St.  Paul  styles  with  supreme  propriety  "  the  deceivableness 
of  unrighteousness."  In  this  manner  men  according  to  our  Sav- 
iour's declaration,  "  love  darkness  rather  than  light,  because  their 
deeds  are  evil.  He  that  doeth  the  truth,  cometh  to  the  light,  that 
his  deeds  may  be  made  manifest,  that  they  are  wrought  in  God. 
But  he,  that  doeth  evil,  hateth  the  light,  neither  cometh  to  the 
light,  lest  his  deeds  should  be  reproved." 

But,  when  we  shall  appear  before  the  bar  of  Christ,  and  "  eve- 
ry work,  with  every  secret  thing,  shall  be  brought  into  judgment ;" 
all  the  sins  which  we  have  committed  in  thought,  word,  or  deed, 
will  be  disclosed  in  full  view  to  our  consciences,  as  well  as  to 
God.  At  the  same  time,  all  the  aggravations  of  our  sin  will  be 
also  disclosed  :  the  criminality  of  these  very  excuses  ;  the  dishon- 
est nature  of  this  very  self  flattery ;  the  turpitude  of  this  very 
self-deception.  Every  perpetration  will  appear  in  its  full  die ; 
the  mass  of  crimes  in  its  full  size  ;  and  the  author  of  them,  as  the 
subject  of  all  the  guilt  charged  upon  him  by  his  maker.  To  the 
full  import  of  his  declarations  the  conscience  of  every  sinner  will 
be  compelled  to  say,  "  Amen." 

But  when  we  see  sin  as  God  sees  it,  and  cannot  shut  our  eyes 
to  any  part  of  our  guilty  conduct ;  how  different  from  our  pres- 
ent estimate,  how  novel,  how  overwhelming,  will  be  the  judgment 
which  we  shall  be  forced  to  form  of  our  character  ?  In  that  awful 
day  "  every  man's  work  shall  be  made  manifest :  for  the  day  shall 


SER.  XXIV.]  THE  FINAL  TRIAL.  357 

declare  it,  because  it  shall  be  revealed  by  fire  :  and  the  fire  shall 
try  every  man's  work,  of  what  sort  it  is."  Then  the  best  of  man- 
kind will  appear  to  themselves,  as  St.  Paul  appeared  to  the  eye 
of  Inspiration,  surrounded  by  "  a  body  of"  sin  and  "  death." 
Then  multitudes,  who  have  been  thought  in  this  world  pleasing, 
amiable,  and  almost  faultless,  will  be  seen  to  have  possessed 
hearts  full  of  evil,  evil  only,  and  that  continually.  Then,  not 
murder  only,  but  malice,  will  be  seen  to  be  monstrous,  hateful, 
and  devihsh :  not  blasphemy  only,  but  profane  and  idle  words 
will  be  the  ground  of  final  reprobation.  Then  not  the  mockery 
of  God  only,  but  negligence  of  his  worship,  and  irreverential 
thoughts  of  his  character,  will  be  the  foundations  of  eternal 
ruin.  It  will  not  then  be  said  to  those  only  who  have  crucified 
Christ,  but  to  those  also  who  have  been  "  ashamed  to  confess 
him  before  men,  Depart  ye  cursed,  into  everlasting  fire,  prepared 
for  the  devil  and  his  angels."  Then  those,  who  have  said  unto 
their  brother,  "  Thou  fool,"  as  well  as  those  who  have  cursed  him 
in  the  bitterness  of  their  heart,  will  be  "  in  danger  of  hell  fire." 
Then  the  adulterer  will  be  shut  out  of  the  kingdom  of  God  ;  and 
by  his  side  will  be  excluded  those  also,  who  have  loved  obscene 
conversation,  and  cherished  impure  thoughts.  Then  "  he,  who 
has  offended  in  one  point,  will  be  found  guilty  of  the  whole  law ;" 
of  sinning  against  its  whole  authority  and  obligation,  and  of  re- 
belling against  its  divine  Author.  On  that  searching  day,  the 
"  righteous  will"  be  seen  "  scarcely"  to  "  be  saved :  where  then 
shall  the  wicked  and  ungodly  appear?"  At  that  awful  period, 
few  things  in  the  hearts  or  the  lives,  even  of  good  men  will  be 
found  to  have  been  done  for  God  :  while  in  vast  multitudes,  all  the 
thoughts,  words,  and  actions,  will  be  seen  to  have  been  perpetra- 
tions of  iniquity  and  services  of  Satan,  intended  for  no  good,  but 
for  every  evil,  purpose.  At  that  period,  what  will  become  of  the 
favourable  opinions  which  we  form  of  our  own  moral  character  ? 
How  groundless,  how  false,  how  fatal,  will  they  appear  ? 

5thly.  How  humiliating,  how  dreadful,  tvill  be  the  appearancf 
of  mankind,  on  this  solemn  day  ? 

Vol.  n.  46 


358  CONSIDERATIONS  ON  [SER.  XXIV. 

Those,  who  are  saved,  will,  as  we  are  told  by  St.  John,  be  "  a 
great  multitude,  which  no  man  can  number,  of  all  nations,  kind- 
reds, and  tongues.  Still,  the  multitude  of  those,  who  will  be  lost, 
will  also  be  very  great ;  and  all  these  will  be  exhibited  in  their 
proper  character,  when  they  come  to  the  judgment.  If  we  turn 
our  eyes  for  a  moment  upon  the  mass  of  crimes  committed  in 
this  guilty  world,  even  in  a  single  day,  we  cannot  but  feel  that  a 
complete  disclosure  of  them  must  be  dreadful  beyond  expression. 
What,  then,  must  be  the  appearance  of  the  whole  human  race, 
loaded  with  all  the  evil  which  has  been  done  from  the  beginning 
of  time,  and  which  will  be  done  to  the  end  of  the  world  ? 

Think  for  a  moment,  solemnly  think,  what  a  multitude  of  sins, 
of  what  black  and  dreadful  dies,  will  then  be  disclosed  to  the 
universe.  Think  what  an  endless  multitude  of  private  iniquities 
will  be  "set  in  the  light  of  God's  countenance."  Think  what  a 
train  of  domestic  contentions  will  then  "  be  proclaimed  on  the 
house-top  ;"  of  quarrels  among  those,  who  were  bound  to  the 
tenderest  affection  by  every  ligament ;  quarrels,  which  violated 
at  once  the  law  of  God,  and  the  strongest  ties  of  nature,  be- 
tween parents  and  children  ;  between  husbands  and  wives ;  be- 
tween  brothers  and  sisters.  What  a  countless  multitude  of  ani- 
mosities and  litigations,  among  neighbours  and  friends  !  What  a 
list  will  be  that  of  murders  ;  and  what  a  host,  that  of  assassins  ? 
How  many  extortions  and  cruelties  of  sordid  avarice  will  astonish 
the  universe  ?  What  swinish  debauchery,  what  prostitution  of  rea- 
son, what  dishonour  to  human  nature,  what  abuses  of  the  bounty 
of  God,  will  be  unveiled  ;  when  the  retreats  of  gluttony  and 
drunkenness  shall  be  laid  open  before  the  last  tribunal  ?  What  a 
boundless  multitude  of  cruelties  inflicted  by  the  master,  and  of 
miseries  suffered  by  the  slave,  will  sicken  the  heart  of  benevo- 
lence ;  when  the  history  of  private  vassalage  and  domestic  ty- 
ranny shall  be  read  in  the  ears  of  the  listening  world  ?  How  will 
Sodom  and  Gomorrah  approach,  and  whiten,  at  the  side  of  mod- 
ern impurity ;  of  lewdness,  perpetrated  within  sight  of  the  Sanc- 
tuary ;  of  stews  and  brothels  erected  in  the  open  day  of  the 
Gospel,  and  among  those  who  have  been  "  baptized  into  the 
name  of  the  Father,  and  of  the  Son,  and  of  the  Holy  Ghost  ^ 


SEP.  XXIV.J  THE  FINAL  TEIAL.  359 

Let  me  exhort  you  to  ponder,  also,  the  public  wickedness, 
which  will  then  be  exposed  to  view.  How  immensely  will  the 
scarlet  crimes  perpetrated  by  Ambition,  outnumber  the  sands 
upon  the  seashore  ;  and,  when  gathered  into  a  mass,  overtop  the 
mountains,  and  reach  up  to  heaven.  What  an  amazing  multi- 
tude of  oppressions  will  be  recounted  by  the  voice  of  Tyranny 
when  rehearsing  his  guilt  before  the  throne  of  God.  How  many 
millions  of  the  human  race  will  draw  nigh,  and  present  before 
the  Judge  the  miseries  which  they  have  endured  from  this  enemy 
of  God  and  man.  How  many  millions  torn  from  friends  and 
home ;  chained  to  the  oar ;  sunk  in  beggary  ;  bereaved  of  pa- 
rents, and  of  children  ;  imprisoned  in  the  dungeon  ;  and  con- 
signed to  the  rack  and  the  gibbet,  the  stake  and  the  cross  ?  How 
many  fiend-like  cabals  will  be  uncovered,  when  the  private  re- 
tirements of  statesmen  shall  be  laid  open  ;  and  the  universe  shall 
see  the  happiness  and  the  hopes,  the  lives,  liberty,  and  property, 
of  nations  bartered  with  frosty  indifference  for  place  and  power  ? 
What  a  dreadful  train  of  iniquities  will  astonish  the  universe, 
when  the  annals  of  War  are  recited  to  "  the  Judge  of  the  quick 
and  the  dead  ?"  How  many  widows  and  orphans  will  rise  up,  as 
terrible  witnesses,  against  the  hero  ;  number  over  the  husbands, 
and  fathers,  whom  he  has  butchered  ;  point  to  the  villages, 
towns,  and  cities,  which  he  has  wrapped  in  flames  ;  to  the  fields, 
which  he  has  drenched  in  blood  ;  and  to  the  world,  which  he  has 
covered  with  desolation  ?  How  will  the  tears  of  anguish  stream 
afresh  ;  the  sighs  of  sorrow  be  heaved  anew  ;  and  the  groans  of 
misery  be  remurmured  before  the  throne  of  judgment.  With 
what  ecstasy  of  woe  will  the  voice  of  sufferers  innumerable  call 
for  exemplary  vengeance  on  the  head  of  the  wretch,  who  has 
bathed  a  world  in  tears,  and  filled  the  reign  of  time  with  agony 
and  despair.  How  will  heaven  and  earth  stand  amazed,  when 
Superstition,  Enthusiasm,  and  Bigotry,  advance  to  their  final  ac- 
count ;  and  rehearse  the  illimitable  tale  of  misery,  which  they 
have  created,  while  usurping  the  throne  of  God,  and  lording  it 
over  the  consciences  of  men  ?  See  the  Inquisition  unveiled  ;  its 
fludnight  dungeons  laid  open  to  the  day ;  its  racks,  and  wheels, 


360  CONSIDERATIONS  ON  [SER.  XXIV. 

and  crosses,  still  stained  with  blood ;  its  fires  still  smoking ;  and 
the  groans  of  torture  dying  upon  the  ear  !  Look  at  the  glorious 
company  of  martyrs,  clothed  in  white,  and  crowned  with  immor- 
tahty,  confronting  the  wretches  who  slaughtered  them  for  their 
piety,  and  sent  them  to  heaven  from  the  flames  and  the  cross  ! 
See  the  smile  of  angels  overcast  !  See  the  countenance  of  fiends 
relaxing  at  the  sight  of  crimes,  which  have  sunk  men  to  their  own 
level.  See  bloody  Nineveh  rise  up  in  judgment  against  the  per- 
secutors of  Judea  and  Christendom,  and  wash  away  her  stains  ! 
Behold  her  exult  in  comparative  innocence  ;  wipe  her  mouth  ; 
and  say,  "  /  have  done  no  wickedness  .'" 

To  complete  this  awful  catalogue,  what  will  be  the  emotions 
of  the  great  Assembly,  vvhen  the  story  of  impiety,  ingratitude, 
profaneness,  and  idolatry,  shall  be  told  in  the  ears  of  the  universe  ? 
On  the  throne  will  sit  the  Saviour,  who  has  been  disbelieved,  and 
rejected,  despised  and  crucified  afresh.  The  glorious  and  eternal 
Jehovah  will  be  here  seen,  from  whom  the  great  family  oi  Adam 
have  revolted  ;  and  in  the  light  of  his  countenance  will  rise  up 
the  demons  and  the  men,  the  brutes  and  the  stocks,  whom  they 
have  worshipped  in  his  stead.  With  what  shame  will  the  wor- 
shippers be  overwhelmed  at  the  sight  ?  and  how  will  all  virtuous 
beings  turn  their  faces  aside  with  horror  ? 

6thly.  What,  have  we  reason  to  think,  will  be  the  appearance 
of  this  Congregation  ? 

How  many  of  those  who  are  before  me,  it  is  to  be  feared,  will 
appear,  when  this  solemn  disclosure  shall  be  made  of  their  char- 
acters, to  have  lived  "  without  God  in  the  world  ?"  How  many 
of  you  will  be  found  never  to  have  entertained  one  serious  thought 
concerning  your  guilt,  nor  one  anxious  inquiry  concerning  whrt 
you  should  do  to  be  saved  ;  to  have  made  not  one  sober  effort  to 
gain  eternal  life,  nor  a  single  attempt  to  escape  from  perdition  ? 
How  many  of  you,  it  is  greatly  to  be  feared,  will  be  found  never 
to  have  asked  God  to  save  your  souls,  and  "  deliver"  you  "  from 
going  down  to  the  pit  ?"  How  many  will  be  found  never  to 
have  united  with  the  heart  in  a  single  ordinance  of  the  house  of 
God  ;  nor  to  have  done  voluntarily  one  good  thing  for  your  Cro 


SER.  XXIV.]  THE  FINAL  TRIAL.  3G1 

ator,  your  fellow  creatures,  or  your  own  souls  ?  Remember,  J 
beseech  you,  that  every  person  of  this  character  is  "  a  stranger  to 
the  covenant  of  promise ;  an  alien  from  the  commonwealth  of 
Israel ;"  hitherto  "  without  hope,  and  without  God,  in  the  world." 

Were  the  great  day  of  disclosure  now  to  arrive  ;  what  would 
be  your  appearance  ?  How  changed  from  the  sloth  and  indifter- 
ence,  the  sport  and  gaiety,  which  you  now  exhibit  ?  What  new 
thoughts  would  you  form  ?  What  new  wishes  would  you  exer- 
cise ?  With  what  amazement  would  you  hear  the  last  trumpet 
sound  ;  the  Archangel  call  ;  and  the  shout  of  the  saints  rend  the 
heavens  ?  With  what  amazement  would  you  see  the  graves 
burst ;  the  dead  arise  ;  the  living  changed  ;  and  yourselves  among 
the  living  ;  the  Judge  descend  ;  the  throne  set ;  and  the  books 
opened  ?  With  what  terror  would  you  wait,  while  "  the  right- 
eous" rose  "  to  meet  the  Lord  in  the  air ;"  and  hear  yourselves 
summoned  to  the  left  hand  of  the  Judge  ?  How  would  you  be 
overwhelmed,  when  the  sentence  of  reprobation  was  pronoun- 
ced ;  and  yourselves  were  "  banished  to  everlasting  destruction, 
from  the  presence  of  the  Lord,  and  from  the  glory  of  his  power  ?" 

If  this  would  be  your  miserable  condition,  were  all  these  things 
now  to  take  place ;  have  you  not  the  most  fearful  reason  to  ex- 
pect tjie  same  anguish  and  dismay,  when  they  shall  actually  take 
place  at  the  day  of  judgment?  You  are  now  quietly  enjoying  "the 
pleasures  of  sin  for  a  season ;"  and  that  season  is  life.  You 
have  formed  no  plan,  you  have  entertained  no  purpose,  of  turn- 
ing to  God.  With  the  world  you  are  completely  satisfied  as  your 
portion  ;  and  say  to  it  daily,  "  Deliver  us  ;  for  thou  art  our  God." 
All  your  past  thoughts,  affections  and  privileges,  have  issued  only 
in  increasing  hardness  of  heart  and  blindness  of  mind ;  a  more 
entire  devotion  to  sense,  and  sin,  and  Satan;  and  in  a  greater  and 
greater  alienation  from  holiness,  and  from  God.  Nothing  has 
hitherto  been  attempted  by  you,  which  has  done  you  the  least 
good  ;  or  for  a  moment  withdrawn  you  a  single  step  from  sin. 
Even  now  you  are  not  wilhng  to  do  so  much,  as  soberly  to  pon- 
der these  infinite  subjects.  Much  less  are  you  solemnly  begin- 
ning a  new  course  of  life,  and  earnestly  labouring  to  escape  from 
perdition. 


362  CONSIDERATIONS  ON  [SER.  XXIV. 

What  hope,  then,  can  you  indulge  of  escaping  at  all  ?  Youth, 
the  best  of  all  seasons  for  the  attainment  of  eternal  life,  you  are 
deliberately  squandering  away.  Your  hearts  are  now  too  hard 
to  receive  any  saving  impressions  from  the  Gospel.  What  will 
they  be  in  the  torpor  of  riper  years  ?  "  Wicked  men  and  seducers," 
we  are  told,  "  will  wax  worse  and  worse  ;  deceiving,  and  being 
deceived.'"  Are  not  you  evidently  ?i;«c^efZ.^  Are  you  not  mutu- 
al seducers  ?  Are  there  not  distressing  reasons  to  fear,  that  in 
this  same  course  of  increasing  corruption  you  will  go  on  as  you 
have  begun,  finish  life,  and  enter  eternity  ? 

Among  the  things,  which  peculiarly  contribute  to  render  your 
case  an  object  of  deep  anxiety  and  dread,  this  consideration 
ought  solemnly  to  alarm  you.  You  have  uniformly  despised  and 
abused  the  mvaluable  privileges,  mercifully  given  to  you  by  your 
Maker.  To  you  the  word  of  God  has  spoken,  the  Sabbath  dawn- 
ed, and  the  Sanctuary  opened  its  doors,  in  vain.  Your  Parents 
have  taught,  and  governed,  and  lived,  and  prayed,  before  you  in 
vain.  In  vain  has  the  voice  of  Mercy  called  ;  the  Redeemer 
poured  out  his  blood  ;  and  the  Spirit  of  truth  striven  to  bring 
you  to  repentance.  Unamended,  unwarned,  unmoved,  you  still 
go  on,  despising  instruction,  and  rejecting  reproof.  What  rea- 
son then  can  you  allege  why  the  Judge  should  not  address  to 
you  the  awful  language  of  his  Word  ?  "  Because  you  hated 
knowledge,  and  did  not  choose  the  fear  of  the  Lord ;  because 
you  would  none  of  my  counsel,  and  despised  all  my  reproof: 
Therefore  shall  ye  eat  of  the  fruit  of  your  own  way,  and  be  filled 
with  your  own  devices." 

Remember,  that  these  things  have  been  declared  to  you  a 
thousand  times  ;  and  that  they  have  been  a  thousand  times  disre- 
garded. You  hear  ;  but  without  even  sober  attention.  You  are 
reminded  from  Sabbath  to  Sabbath  ;  but  voluntarily  forget.  You 
are  warned  ;  but  slight  the  admonition.  You  are  invited  and  ur- 
ged, to  faith,  repentance,  and  reformation  ;  but  your  only  answer 
is,  "  I  pray  thee,  have  me  excused."  In  the  very  house  of  God 
you  harden  your  hearts.  At  the  foot  of  the  mercy-seat  you  re- 
fuse to  pray.  In  the  immediate  presence  of  your  Maker  you  re- 
fuse to  bear  his  voice.     Before  the  table  of  Christ  you  despise  his 


SER.  XXIV.]  THE  FINAL  TRIAJ..  SQS 

sufferings ;  and  cast  contempt  on  tliat  love,  which  he  manifested 
to  your  souls,  and  which  has  amazed  both  heaven  and  hell,  Of 
all  this  God  has  been  a  witness  every  sabbath  which  you  have 
spent  in  his  house.  The  all  searching  eye  has  looked  directly  in- 
to your  hearts  ;  and  the  book  of  remembrance  has  recorded  them 
all  against  the  reckoning  of  the  final  day. 

Even  this  is  far  from  being  all  the  guilt  which  you  have  incur- 
red. Look  into  your  hearts  and  lives;  and  you  will  see  a  multi- 
tude of  sins  of  many  kinds,  burrowed  in  your  hearts,  and  creep- 
ing out  into  your  lives.  Think  how  many  private  debasements 
have  polluted  you  "  from  the  crown  of  the  head  to  the  sole  of 
the  foot."  Call  to  mind  the  profaneness  with  which  you  have 
dishonoured  your  Creator,  and  digraced  yourselves ;  with  what 
irreverence  you  have  regarded  that  glorious  and  fearful  Name, 
Jehovah  your  God.  Think  how  often  this  irreverence  has  been 
manifested,  not  only  in  the  language  appropriately  styled  profane, 
but  in  that  also  which  is  decent  and  chastened  ;  which  was  not 
directed  immediately  against  God  himself,  but  against  his  Word, 
his  Ordinances,  and  his  Church ;  because  you  thought  it  safer  to 
attack  them,  than  Him. 

Remember  how  many  idle  words  you  have  spoken,  and  contin- 
ually speak  ;  words  flowing  from  a  vain,  empty,  worthless  mind, 
thoughtless  of  God,  forgetful  of  your  duty,  and  regardless  of 
your  salvation  ;  words  answering  no  good,  and  therefore  always 
accomplishing  a  bad  purpose. 

Call  next  to  mind  the  impure  thoughts  which  you  have  indul- 
ged. Think  how  often  your  imaginations  have  wandered  after 
objects,  and  sated  themselves  on  images  and  scenes,  which  you 
never  dared  to  mention.  How  little  did  you  think  at  the  time, 
that  God  was  looking  on,  and  beholding  the  progress  of  pollu- 
tion in  your  hearts.  Recall  next  the  polluted  books,  which  you 
have  read  with  eagerness  and  delight ;  the  polluted  pictures,  at 
which  you  have  gazed  with  the  same  spirit ;  and  the  polluted 
ivords,  to  which  you  have  listened  with  pleasure,  or  which  with 
equal  pleasure  you  have  uttered  to  others. 

To  these  things  add  your  indidgence  of  other  evil  passions. 
Remember,  particularly,  your  sloth  in  the  service  of  God.     Can 


3G4  CONSIDERATIONS  ON  [SER.  XXIV 

you  find  in  your  whole  lives  a  single  act,  cordially  intended  to 
glorify  him  ?  If  you  cannot ;  how  great  must  be  the  number  of 
those  actions,  in  which  you  have  dishonoured  him  ?  Feel  how 
destitute  your  lives  must  have  been  of  all  duty ;  and  how  entire- 
ly you  have  sustained  the  character  of  "  unprofitable  servants." 

"  Love  not  the  world,"  says  St.  John,  "  neither  the  things  that 
are  in  the  world.  If  any  man  love  the  world,  the  love  of  the 
Father  is  not  in  him."  In  what  manner  have  you  loved  the  world? 
Has  it  not  hitherto  been  your  God  ;  and  engrossed  your  affection, 
obedience,  and  worship.  To  this  general  idol  have  you  not  bow- 
ed daily  in  humble  prostration  ;  and  sacrificed  your  time,  your  ser- 
vices, and  yourselves.  What  costly  sacrifices  are  these?  How  un- 
worthy of  such  oblations  is  the  god,  to  whom  they  are  devoted  ? 

Riches,  honours,  power,  and  pleasure,  have  engaged  all  your 
thoughts,  and  all  your  time.  Riches,  perhaps,  you  have  not  cov- 
eted for  their  own  sake  ;  but  you  have  coveted  them  for  the  sake 
of  the  reputation,  splendour,  and  luxury,  which  they  procure ; 
and,  in  this  sense,  have  worshipped  Mammon  with  a  devotion  not 
less  real,  than  that  of  the  veriest  miser.  With  honour  and  pow- 
er you  have  been  delighted.  With  pleasure  you  have  been  fasci- 
nated to  frenzy.  "  The  lust  of  the  flesh,  the  lust  of  the  eyes,  and 
the  pride  of  life,"  have  reigned  over  you  with  a  despotism,  which, 
from  any  other  source,  would  have  broken  your  hearts,  and  made 
you  cry  out  of  lurong,  without  measure.  Still  you  have  hugged 
your  chains  ;  and  licked  the  hand  of  your  oppressors. 

Call,  next,  to  mind  the  eagerness,  with  which  you  have  sought 
the  haunts  of  sin,  and  courted  the  means  of  corruption.  Recol- 
lect the  times  and  the  spirit,  with  which  you  have  gone  to  those 
places  where  sin  vi^as  known  by  you  to  be  practised  ;  where  it 
was  made  easy,  convenient,  and  safe ;  where  temptations  were 
gathered  and  hoarded  up  with  a  careful  hand,  lest  they  should 
fail  of  their  ruinous  efficacy,  and  lest  otherwise  the  young  should 
not  in  sufficient  numbers  be  destroyed.  Think  of  the  midnight 
hours,  which  you  have  spent  in  seeking  and  perpetrating  iniquity. 
Think  of  the  companions  whom  you  have  loved  and  chosen  ; 
and  with  whom  you  have  united  in  crimes,  which  neither  you 
nor  they  would  ever  have  dared  to  commit  alone. 


*ER.  XXIV.]  THE  FINAL  TRIAL.  365 

With  these  things  before  your  eyes  remember  also  how  often, 
and  in  what  distressing  degrees,  you  have  set  an  evil  example  he- 
fore  others.  Of  all  means  of  corruption  an  evil  example  is  the 
surest :  and  among  the  bitter  objects  of  regret  seen  by  the  mind 
on  a  dying  bed,  our  own  corruption  of  others  is  one  of  the  most 
bitter.  To  think,  to  feel,  that  we  have  encouraged  others  to  sin; 
that  we  have  contributed  to  fix  their  evil  habits ;  have  lessened  or 
destroyed  their  conscientiousness,  have  led  them  to  evil  thoughts, 
principles,  and  actions,  of  which,  but  for  us,  they  would  never 
have  dreamed ;  have,  under  the  name  and  guise  of  friendship, 
taken  them  by  the  hand,  and  led  them  to  perdition,  or  prevented 
them  from  turning  back  to  the  path  of  life :  is  to  think,  and  feel, 
one  of  the  most  distressing  combinations  of  guilt  which  will  ever 
agonize  the  soul.  Yet  alas  how  often  are  mankind,  even  in  early 
life,  forced  to  think  and  feel,  unless  they  are  torpid,  these  melan- 
choly things. 

The  time  would  fail  me  to  proceed  farther  in  this  employment 
of  remembrance.  From  what  has  been  said,  it  will  be  easy  for 
you  all  to  pursue  this  solemn  subject  to  any  extent.  How  well 
does  it  deserve  to  be  pursued  to  the  utmost  extent,  by  every  man 
living  ? 

With  these  most  interesting  objects  in  view,  I  ask  again,  What 
will  he  the  appearance  of  (his  Congregation  hefore  the  Judge  of 
all  the  earth  ?  How  different  from  that,  which  we  would  fain 
believe  ;  from  that,  which  we  cannot  but  fervently  desire  ! 

7thly.  het  me  exhort  every  person  present  solemnly  to  ask  him- 
self how  he  will  appear  at  the  great  day. 

The  sole  use  of  preaching  is  to  make  the  mind  better.  To  the 
accomplishment  of  this  end  it  is  indispensable,  that  those  who 
hear  should  make  the  case  their  own ;  and  consider  themselves  as 
primarily  concerned  in  that  which  is  said.  If  then  you,  who 
have  heard  these  awful  considerations,  would  derive  from  them 
the  least  benefit ;  you  must  severally  bring  them  home  to  your 
own  hearts.  Every  one  of  you  must  realize  that  he  himself  will 
hereafter  appear  before  the  bar  of  God  ;  and  that  "  every  work 
with  every  secret  thing"  which  he  has  done,  "  will  be  brought  iu- 

?0L.  li.  47 


366  CONSIDERATIONS  ON  THE  FINAL  TRIAL.      [SER.  XXIV. 

to  judgment."     Then  it  will  be  scarcely  possible  for  him  to  fail 
of  asking  himself  the  question,  which  I  have  now  proposed. 

Your  past  life  you  cannot  alter.  It  is  gone  beyond  recall. 
But  it  may  be  reviewed  ;  and  by  reviewing  it  you  may  become 
better.  If  that  life,  when  it  shall  be  brought  out  into  open  day, 
will  fill  you  with  shame  and  anguish,  and  even  with  despair ;  how 
immensely  important  is  it  that  your  future  conduct  should  be  such 
as  to  alleviate  these  distresses,  and  furnish  you  support  and  con- 
solation at  the  final  trial.  For  this  end  you  must  consent  to 
watch  your  hearts  with  all  diligence  ;  to  mark  the  rising  sin,  and 
to  spy  out  the  approaching  temptation.  You  must  resolve,  that 
you  will  serve  God  ;  must  "  turn  to  him  with  all  the  heart;"  must 
mourn  for  your  sins,  and  renounce  them  ;  must  believe  the  Re- 
deemer, and  yield  your  souls  into  his  hands.  You  must  faithfully 
"  seek  the  Lord,  while  he  is  to  be  found  ;"  you  must  "  call  upon 
him,  while  he  is  near."  If  you  do  these  things;  "he  will  have 
mercy  on  you,  and  abundantly  pardon  you." 

To  prompt  you  to  this  most  interesting  change  of  your  con- 
duct, keep  these  amazing  considerations  before  your  eyes.  "Bind 
them  upon  your  right  arms :  lay  them  up  in  your  hearts :  speak 
of  them,  when  you  sit  in  the  house,  and  when  you  walk  by  the 
way."  Solemnly  ponder  them,  "  when  you  lie  down,  and  when 
you  rise  up."  Can  you  remember  in  this  manner,  that  you  will 
soon  be  judged  ;  and  yet  continue  stupid  ?  Can  you  ask,  each  for 
himself,  "What  will  be  the  account  which  I  shall  give  ?  What 
will  be  the  place  where  I  shall  stand?  What  will  be  the  doom 
which  I  shall  receive?"  and  still  sleep  the  sleep  of  death?  Re- 
member that  you  are  hastening  to  endless  ruin,  or  immortal  glo- 
ry. "  Behold,  the  day  cometh,  which  shall  burn  as  an  oven :  and 
all  the  proud,  and  all  that  do  wickedly,  shall  be  stubble  :  and  the 
day,  that  cometh,  shall  burn  them  up,  and  leave  them  neither 
root  nor  branch."  In  that  dreadful  day,  "  They  that  fear  the 
Lord,"  saith  Jehovah,  "  shall  be  mine,  when  I  make  up  my  jew- 
els;  and  I  will  spare  them,  as  a  man  spareth  his  own  son,  thatj 
serveth  him."  Life  and  death  are  this  day  both  set  before  you  ,*j 
therefore  choose  life,  that  you  may  live  forever. 


.'SERMON  XXV. 


THE  DISAPPOINTMENTS,  WHICH  WILL  TAKE  PLACE  AT  THE  DAY 
OF  JUDGMENT.— Sermon  I. 

Luke  xiii.  28 — 30. 

There  shall  he  weeping  and  gnashing  of  teeth,  when  ye  shall 
see  Abr-aham,  and  Isaac,  and  Jacob,  and  all  the  prophets,  in  the 
kingdom  of  God,  and  you  yourselves  thrust  out. 

And  they  shall  come  from  the  east,  and  from  the  west,  and  from 
the  north,  and  from  the  south,  and  shall  sit  down  in  the  kingdom 
of  Gov. 

And,  behold,  there  are  last  which  shall  he  first,  and  there  are 
first  which  shall  he  last. 

In  the  24th  verse  of  this  chapter  we  are  informed,  that  a  cer- 
tain nian  said  unto  Christ,  "  Lord,  are  there  few  that  be  saved  ?" 
As  this  was  a  question  of  improper  curiosity,  Christ,  instead  of 
answering  it,  directed  him,  and  all  others  who  shall  become  ac- 
quainted with  the  injunction,  to  "  strive  to  enter  in  at  the  strait 
gate  ;"  and  subjoined,  as  a  powerful  reason  for  obedience  to  the 
command,  that  "  many  would  seek  to  enter  in,  and  would  not  be 
able."  To  this  melancholy  declaration  he  annexed  a  most  af- 
fecting account  of  the  miserable  disappointment,  which  will  be 
experienced  by  those,  who,  in  this  world,  but  on  false  grounds,  ex- 
pect an  admission  into  the  divine  kingdom.  They  will  go  with 
confidence  to  the  door  of  life,  and  say,  "  Lord,  Lord,  open  to  us." 
They  will  declare,  that  "  they  have  eaten,  and  drunk  in  his  pres- 
ence," and  that  "  he  has  taught  in  their  streets  ;"  but  he  will  re- 
ply, "  I  know  you  not,  whence  ye  are  :  depart  from  me,  ye  work- 
,  ers  of  iniquity."  Then  he  subjoins,  "  There  shall  be  weeping, 
and  gnashing  of  teeth,  when  ye  shall  see  Abraham,  and  Isaac, 


368  THE  DISAPPOINTMENTS  WHICH  WILL  TAKE     fSER.  XXV. 

and  Jacob,  and  all  the  prophets,  in  the  kingdom  of  God,  and  you 
yourselves  thrust  out.  And  they  shall  come  from  the  east,  and 
from  the  west,  and  from  the  north,  and  from  the  south,  and  shall 
sit  down  in  the  kingdom  of  God.  And,  behold,  there  are  last, 
which  shall  be  first ;  and  there  are  first,  which  shall  be  last." 
In  this  passage  of  Scripture  we  are  taught, 

I.  That  some  of  the  human  race  will  he  shut  out  from  the  king- 
dom of  God,  tvho  have  confidently  expected  admission. 

II.  That  others^  whom  they  expected  to  see  shut  out,  will  he  re- 
ceived. 

III.  That  the  distress,  occasioned  hy  this  disappointment,  will 
he  very  great. 

These  subjects,  deeply  interesting  to  every  religious  assembly, 
and  demanding,  at  the  present  time,  the  most  solemn  attention 
of  this  audience,  will  be  briefly  considered  in  the  following  dis- 
course. 

I.  Some  of  the  human  race  will  he  shut  out  of  the  kingdom  of 
God,  who  have  confidently  expected  admission. 

"  There  shall  be  weeping,  and  gnashing  of  teeth,  when  ye  shall 
see  Abraham,  and  Isaac,  and  Jacob,  and  all  the  prophets,  in  the 
kingdom  of  God,  and  you  yourselves  thrust  out."  The  persons, 
to  whom  these  words  are  addressed,  are  exhibited  in  the  context 
as  coming  with  an  assurance  of  admission  ;  and  as  alleging  what 
they  think  very  sufficient  reasons,  why  they  should  not  be  reject- 
ed. They  gave  Christ  the  honourable  title  of  Lord  ;  and  thus  in- 
dicate their  own  character  as  his  servants.  They  request  him  to 
open  to  them,  in  terms,  which  sufficiently  prove,  that  they  expect 
no  denial.  They  declare,  that  they  have  eaten  and  drunk  in  his 
presence,  as  friends ;  and  that  he  has,  at  a  former  period,  shewn 
them  peculiar  favour,  by  teaching  his  religion  publicly  in  their 
streets.  These  very  persons  he  addresses  in  the  text,  as  being, 
to  some  extent,  a  part  of  his  audience.  This  audien.ce,  we  know, 
was  formed  of  Jeivs  ;  all  of  whom,  being  children  of  Ahrahamy 
confidently  regarded  themselves  as  heirs  of  the  divine  kingdom. 
In  the  corresponding  passage,  (Matthew  viii.  12.)  Christ  himself 
calls  them,  as  they  were  probably  accustomed  to  call  themselves, 


SER.  XXV.]        PLACE  AT  THE  DAY  OF  JUDGMENT.  369 

"the  Children  of  the  Kingdom."  "I  say  unto  you  that  many 
shall  come  from  the  east  and  west,  and  shall  sit  down  with  Abra- 
ham, and  Isaac,  and  Jacob,  in  the  kingdom  6f  heaven  :  But  the 
Children  of  the  Kingdom  shall  be  cast  out  into  outer  darkness  : 
there  shall  be  weeping,  and  gnashing  of  teeth."  These  Jews 
therefore,  notwithstanding  their  confident  expectations  of  being 
admitted,  will  be  finally  shut  out.  Like  them,  ail,  who  on  simi- 
lar grounds  form  the  same  expectation,  will  be  disappointed. 

Christ  has  proffered  to  mankind  a  glorious  immortality  in  the 
future,  eternal  kingdom  of  his  Father.  But  He  has  proffered  it 
on  his  own  terms  only.  Many  of  mankind,  however,  intend  to 
obtain  this  blessing  on  terms,  widely  different  from  his.  Of  these, 
multitudes  feel  assured  of  success  ;  and  will  enter  the  future 
world  with  this  assurance.  The  expectations  of  all  these  persons 
will  be  disappointed  ;  and,  while  they  are  crying,  "  Peace  and 
safety,"  "  sudden  destruction  will  come  upon  them,  which  they 
cannot  escape,"  As  some,  perhaps  many,  of  this  audience,  may 
be  in  this  very  situation  ;  it  cannot  be  an  unprofitable  employ- 
ment to  examine  the  character  of  those,  who  will  meet  with  this 
unexpected  reception. 

1  St.  Of  this  number  will  he  all  those,  who  leave  the  world,  re- 
lying upon  their  oivji  Righteousness. 

Christ  has  taught  us  abundantly,  and  absolutely,  that  his  right- 
eousness is  the  only  foundation  of  our  acceptance.  Hence,  He 
is  styled  "  The  Lord,  our  righteousness,"  and  our  Salvation  : 
'■  Mine  eyes,"  said  Simeon,  when  he  took  Him  up  in  his  arms, 
and  blessed  Him,  "  have  seen  thy  Salvation."  Hence,  also,  He 
is  called,  "  The  hope  of  glory"  to  mankind  :  i.  c.  the  foundation 
upon  which  Evangelical  hopes  of  future  glory  may  be  safely 
})uilt.  Hence,  also,  God  says,  "  Blessed  is  the  man,  who  trusteth 
in  the  Lord,  and  whose  hope  the  Lord  is."  Hence,  on  the  con- 
trary, He  says,  "  Wo  unto  them  that  are  wise,"  i.  o.  righteous,  "  in 
their  own  eyes."  Hence,  also,  He  says,  "Cursed  be  the  man, 
who  trusteth  in  man."  And  again,  "  He,  that  believeth  on  the 
Son  of  God,  hath  everlasting  fife  ;  but  he,  that  believeth  not, 
shall  be  damned." 


370       THE  DISAPPOINTMENTS  WHICH  WILL  TAKE        [SEIi.  XXV. 

Still,  there  are  many  persons,  who  rely  either  wholly,  or  par- 
tially, on  their  own  righteousness  for  salvation,  and  not  on  his.  In 
many  respects  these  persons  differ  from  each  other  greatly  :  in 
this,  their  character  is  exactly  the  same.  If  they  go  out  of  the 
world  in  the  possession  of  this  character  ;  they  will  hereafter  be 
united  in  the  ruin  of  their  hopes. 

Of  this  number  are  all  those  persons^  who  place  their  reliance 
on  External  religious  services.  Confidence  in  the  external  ser- 
vices of  Religion  has  probably  existed  in  every  generation  of  men  ; 
and  especially  at  those  periods,  in  which  Religion  has  been  pe- 
culiarly corrupted.  These  plainly  constituted  the  whole  religion 
of  the  Pharisees.  But  our  Saviour  says  to  his  Disciples,  "  Except 
your  righteousness  exceed  the  righteousness  of  the  Scribes  and 
Pharisees,  ye  shall  in  no  case  enter  into  the  kingdom  of  heaven." 
These  services  were,  also,  in  an  eminent  degree,  the  religion  of 
the  Jeivs  in  the  time  of  Isaiah  :  "  To  what  purpose  is  the  multi- 
tude of  your  sacrifices  unto  me  ?  saith  the  Lord.  Bring  no  more 
vain  oblations ;  incense  is  an  abomination  unto  me.  The  new 
moons,  and  Sabbaths,  and  the  calling  of  assemblies,  I  cannot 
away  with.  When  ye  spread  forth  your  hands,  I  will  hide  mine 
eyes  from  you  ;  yea,  when  ye  make  many  prayers,  I  will  not 
hear."  But,  notwithstanding  these  decisive  declarations,  not  a 
small  number  of  persons,  through  every  succeeding  generation, 
have  placed  their  hopes  of  final  acceptance  on  the  same  ser- 
vices. 

"  He  that  believeth,"  and  he  only,  "  shall  be  saved."  What- 
ever may  be  intended  by  that  faith,  which  is  the  means  of  our  jus- 
tification, and,  therefore,  of  our  title  to  eternal  life,  it  is  certain, 
that  it  can  be  nothing  external.  Faith,  whatever  else  it  may  be, 
has  its  seat  in  the  soul,  and  cannot  possibly  be  an  exercise  of  the 
body.  How  valuable  soever,  then,  these  services  may  be,  their 
value  cannot  exist  in  this ;  that  they  constitute,  either  wholly  or 
partially,  the  foundation  of  acceptance  with  God.  Of  course, 
every  man,  who  has  placed  his  reliance  on  his  prayers ;  his  prais- 
es ;  his  communion  at  the  table  of  Christ ;  the  dedication  of  him- 
self, or  his  children,  to  God  in  baptism ;  his  assumption  of  the 


SER.  XXV.]        PLACE  AT  THE  DAY  OF  JUDGMENT.  371 

Christian  covenant ;  his  confirmation ;  his  absolution  ;  or  his  ex- 
act attendance  on  the  estabhshed,  or  occasional,  worship  of  God  ; 
will  find,  all  these  of  no  more  use  or  avail  than  a  pilgrimage  to 
Mecca,  or  an  ablution  in  the  Nile  or  the  Ganges.  When  they 
are  recited  in  the  final  account,  however  numerous,  exact,  and 
uniform,  they  may  have  been,  he  will  learn,  what  he  ought  now 
to  know,  that  they  are  "  a  smoke  in  the  nostrils  of  Jehovah  ;  an 
abomination,  which  he  cannot  away  with." 

The  multiplication  of  such  services,  and  extreme  exactness  in 
performing  them,  united  with  many  scruples  and  fears  concern- 
ing things  of  an  indiflferent,  and  therefore  ordinarily  of  a  lawful, 
nature,  constitute  the  character  of  those  who  are  styled  supersti- 
tious. The  difference  between  the  superstitious  man  and  the 
external  Christian  lies  not  in  the  kind,  but  in  the  degree.  Be- 
tween the  observances  of  superstition,  and  the  faith,  repentance, 
and  holiness,  of  the  Gospel,  the  distance  is  infinite :  there  being 
nothing  in  the  former  which  bears  even  a  remote  resemblance  to 
the  latter.  To  the  latter  God  has  promised  salvation  :  to  the 
"former  he  has  promised  nothing.  In  the  day  of  trial  therefore, 
the  superstitious  man  will  find,  that  all  his  hopes  are  built  upon 
the  sand. 

Of  the  same  number  is  the  enthusiast. 

Enthusiasm  is  a  reliance  for  religious  knowledge,  dispositions^ 
and  duties,  on  immediate  and  supernatural  communications  from 
God.  No  such  communications  exist  in  fact.  Those,  which  are 
mistaken  for  them,  are  only  the  suggestions  of  a  wild  and  heated 
imagination.  Were  they  really  what  they  are  believed  to  be ; 
they  would  contain  in  themselves  nothing,  which  is  evangelically 
good  ;  nothing,  of  the  nature  of  Religion  ;  nothing,  which  can 
entitle  the  subjects  of  them  to  eternal  life.  "  Though  I  speak 
with  the  tongues  of  men,  and  of  angels,  and  have  not  love ;  I 
am  become  as  sounding  brass,  and  a  tinkling  cymbal."  These 
supposed  communications  from  God  are  also  supposed  to  be 
proofs,  that  the  subjects  of  them  are  peculiarly  his  favourites. 
In  consequence  of  this  belief,  they  are  filled  with  what  they  er- 
roneously call  spiritual  joy,  but  what  is  in  realitv  nothing  but 


372  THE  DISAPPOINTMENTS  WHICH  WILL  TAJCE    [SER.  XX\ 

gross  spiritual  pride.  Accordingh^  they  erect  themselves  very 
often  into  private,  and  not  unfVequently  into  public,  teachers  of 
Religion.  They  profess  to  know,  that  themselves  are,  and  that 
others  are,  or  are  not,  regenerated  ;  and  to  determine  whether 
Ministers  are,  as  they  style  it,  sent,  or  have  an  internal  call  to 
preach  the  Gosj^el.  They  not  unfrequently  speak  of  themselves, 
as  being  thus  sent,  or  called  ;  intending  by  the  call  an  internal 
impulse,  a  direct  communication  from  heaven  ;  which  they  pro- 
fessedly feel,  and  understand,  to  be  of  this  nature.  Thus,  they 
consider  themselves  as  summoned  no  less  clearly  and  certainly  to 
preach,  than  Paul  was  ;  and,  substantially,  in  the  same  manner; 
viz.  by  a  direct  revelation  from  God.  A  real  call  to  preach  the 
Gospel,  whenever  it  exists,  is  made  up  of  piety  ;  a  capacity  to 
nnderstaiid  the  Gospel ;  an  actxial,  and  extensive,  acquaintance 
with  what  it  contains,  derived  from  an  enlightened  understanding, 
and  intense  study ;  together  with  such  extensive  knowledge,  as 
loill  enable  a  man  to  write,  and  to  speak,  so  as  hopefully  to  con- 
vince his  fellow-men  of  the  Truth,  and  persuade  them  to  embrace 
it.  All  this,  however,  as  every  man,  even  the  best,  is  perpetually 
in  danger  of  deceiving  himself,  especially  with  regard  to  his  own 
endowments,  and  attainments,  should  be  clearly  decided  by  the 
judgment  of  those  around  us,  who  are  eminently  wise  and  virtu- 
ous. But  these  men  have  no  such  qualifications  ;  and,  therefore, 
no  such  call. 

With  regard  to  the  knowledge,  which  they  profess  of  their  own 
conversion,  they  are  equally  and  miserably  deluded.  The  Scrip- 
tures no  where  tell  us,  that  we  shall  know  the  fact,  that  we  are 
converted.  Were  this  otherwise,  and  the  fact  known  ;  it  would 
not  at  all  help  us  to  know  the  time,  when  our  conversion  took 
place.  There  is  not  a  hint  in  the  Gospel,  that  this  time  is  ever 
known  ;  and,  were  it  actually  known,  it  would  preclude  all  the 
necessity  of  self  examination,  so  often  enjoined  ;  and  render  use- 
less the  evidences  of  regeneration,  given  us  in  the  Scriptures : 
and  nugatory  the  rules,  by  which  we  are  to  try  ourselves. 

As  to  their  knowledge  of  the  regeneration  of  others,  whether 
ministers  or  Christians ;  we  may  judge  of  its  soundness  from  this 


SER.  XXV.]         PLACE  AT  THE  DAY  OF  JUDGMENT.  373 

fact :  that  St.  Peter,  in  the  plenitude  of  inspiration,  and  under 
the  immediate  guidance  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  said  of  Silvanus  or 
Silas,  the  companion  of  Paul ;  a  prophet ;  a  man  inspired  ;  an 
eminent,  laborious,  and  very  successful  minister  of  the  Gospel, 
whom  Paid  thought  proper  to  unite  with  himself  in  the  two 
Epistles  to  the  Thessalonians  ;  of  this  man  St.  Peter  said,  only, 
"  Silvanus  a  faithful  brother,  as  I  suppose."  Unless,  therefore^ 
the  men,  whom  they  pronounce  to  be  Christians,  are  better  men 
than  Silas,  or  they,  better  judges  of  this  subject  than  St.  Peter, 
it  would  certainly  become  them  to  exhibit  no  more  confidence, 
than  he  has  thought  proper  to  exhibit. 

The  truth  is,  all  these  opinions  are  deplorable  delusions  ;  un- 
warranted by  Scripture  ;  unsupported  by  facts.  Nor  is  this  all. 
Their  pretensions  are,  in  the  most  absolute  manner,  refuted  by 
facts.  Instead  of  exhibiting  the  wisdom  and  piety  of  good  men, 
they  ordinarily  exhibit  a  character,  made  up  of  gross  folly,  and 
gross  sin.  Particularly,  they  are  wonderfully  guilty  of  the  com» 
plicated  sins  of  spiritual  pride  and  self-righteousness  ;  and  are 
thus  a  wound  to  Religion,  and  a  smoke  to  the  eyes  of  all  its 
friends. 

Let  every  person  of  this  character  remember,  that,  were  he 
possessed  of  all  the  communications  from  heaven,  which  he  chal- 
lenges, they  would  not  go  a  single  step  towards  proving  that  he 
is  a  Religious  man,  Balaam  was  really  inspired  ;  and  in  a  high- 
er degree,  than  these  persons  will  dare  to  boast.  He  uttered,  al- 
so, several  sublime  and  wonderful  prophecies.  Yet  "  he  loved 
the  wages  of  unrighteousness  ;"  and  perished  in  his  iniquity.  If 
I  am  asked  whether  none  of  these  men,  whom  I  have  described, 
can  be  good  men ;  and  am  so  severe  as  to  condemn  them  all ;  I 
answer,  that  my  own  business  hes  not  with  the  men,  but  with 
their  principles,  and  practices.  As  there  are  sinners,  who  have 
hypocrisy  enough  to  appear  like  Christians ;  so  there  are  Chris- 
tians, who  have  folly  and  wickedness  enough,  remaining,  to  make 
them  appear  much  like  sinners.  The  principles,  and  practices, 
of  these  men  I  condemn  absolutely ;  arjd  pronounce  with  confi- 
dence,  nay,  with  certainty,  that  they  will  not  help  them  a  single 

Vol.  II.  48 


374         THE  DISAPPOINTMENTS  WHICH  WILL  TAKE      [SER.  XXT. 

step  towards  heaven.  As  to  the  men  themselves ;  "  to  then- 
own  Master  they  stand,  or  fall."  For  myself,  when  they  cease 
to  be  "  puffed  up,  and  to  vaunt  themselves  •,"  when  they  become 
meek,  modest,  humble,  and  self-denying  ;  when  they  are  more 
willing  to  obey  that  precept  of  St.  James  ;  "  My  brethren  be  not 
many  tea'chers ;"  I  shall  begin  to  thiuk  more  favourably  of  their 
character. 

Of  the  same  number,  also,  are  those  persons,  who  rely  upon  a 
decent  and  amiable  behaviour. 

To  give  pleasure  to  others,  and  to  be  loved  by  them,  are  at- 
tainments, naturally  desirable  in  the  eyes  of  all  men.  Nor  will 
he,  who  steadily  aims  at  this  object,  fail  of  giving  the  pleasure. 
Avhich  he  intends,  and  of  being  loved  by  those,  to  whom  it  is  giv- 
en. The  disposition,  which  gives  birth  to  such  behaviour,  is  in 
itself  amiable,  and  useful ;  and  contributes  much  to  the  peace  of 
domestic  life,  and  to  the  comfort  of  good  neighbourhood.  It  is 
therefore  naturally,  and  in  some  sense  deservedly,  esteemed  and 
commended.  For  what  is  thus  commended  they  of  course  give 
themselves  full  credit.  Others  think  .well  of  them  ;  and  they 
think  still  better  of  themselves.  Others  think  them  good  ;  they 
think  themselves  eminently  good.  But,  unhappily,  they  stop 
here;  and,  while  they  are  much  busied  in  pleasing  men,  make 
no  attempts  to  please  God.  God,  therefore,  is  not  pleased  with 
them ;  and,  of  course,  will  not  accept  them  at  the  final  day. 

Of  the  same  number,  also,  are  therj,  who  rely  upon  what  are 
called  the  Moral  duties  of  life. 

These  persons,  pay  their  debts  ;  speak  truth  ;  treat  others  kind- 
ly ;  are  charitable  to  the  poor  ;  are  sober,  diligent,  frugal,  chaste, 
and  temperate.  At  least,  they  profess  all  these  things  ;  and  rare-l 
ly  profess,  or  do,  any  thing  more.  These,  also,  are  useful  mem- 
bers of  society.  The  things  which  they  do,  are  useful  things  : 
nay,  they  are  essential  and  indispensable  parts  of  the  Christian 
character.  But  it  is  indispensable,  also,  that  all  these  and  all 
other  things  which  are  done  by  man,  should  be  done  with  a  spirit 
of  obedience  to  God.  All  good  things,  such  as  the  Scriptures 
call  good,  come  forth  "  out  of  the  good  treasure  in  the  heart  of 


SER.  XXV.]        PLACE  AT  THE  DAY  OF  JUDGMENT.  375 

a  good  man  ;  out  of  a  heart  informed  with  faith,  repentance,  and 
love.  They  are  the  fruit  of  "  the  good  seed,"  sown  in  such  a 
tieart.  That,  which  is  not  done  with  a  supreme  reference  to  the 
will  of  God,  is  not  morally  good  in  itself;  and  will  never  be  styl- 
ed good  by  him. 

The  morality,  on  which  these  persons  rely,  will  never  bear  an 
Evangelical  examination.  But,  were  it  as  excellent  as  themselves 
believe,  it  would  never  purchase  heaven.  Heaven  is  the  reward 
of  Christ's  obedience  ;  and  becomes  ours  only  by  faith  in  him. 
"  Though  I  give  all  my  goods  to  feed  the  poor,"  said  the  Apos- 
tle Paul^  "  and  have  not  love,  it  profiteth  me  nothing." 

It  is  ever  to  be  remembered,  that  the  "  young  Ruler,"  who 
came  to  Christ,  to  know  "  what  good  thing  he  should  do,  to  in- 
herit eternal  life,"  united  in  himself  both  these  characters.  He 
was  so  amiable,  that  "  Jesus,  beholding  him,  loved  him  ;  and 
from  his  youth  had  done  all"  the  "  things,"  on  which  the  moral- 
ist relies  for  salvation.  Still  "  he  lacked  one  thing  ;"  and  that 
was  "  the  one  thing  needful." 

2dly.  Another  class  of  men,  who  ivill  be  exceedingly  disappoint' 
ed  hereafter,  will  consist  of  those,  who  rely  on  what  may  be  call- 
ed a  Religious  Character. 

The  particular  grounds  of  reliance,  in  this  case,  are  very  vari- 
ous ;  the  general  ground  is  the  same.  The  Jews  expected  heav- 
en because  they  were  the  "  children  of  Abraham  ;"  members  of 
the  visible  church  ;  and  the  chosen  people  of  God  ;  because  they 
were  Pharisees,  Scribes,  or  Doctors  of  their  law ;  and  for  other 
reasons  of  a  similar  nature.  Persons  at  the  present  time,  and  in 
this  land,  expect  heaven,  because  they  are  the  children  of  pious 
parents  ;  because  they  are  baptized  ;  because  they  are  Commu- 
nicants ;  or  because  they  are  Ministers  in  the  Church  of  God. 

In  the  same  manner  the  friends  of  religious  persons  ;  their 
companions,  and  equals  ;  accustomed  to  the  same  sentiments, 
and  course  of  hfe  ;  united  with  them  in  many  hopes,  wishes,  and 
pursuits ;  having  the  same  character  given  them ;  and  being 
treated  by  others,  as  they  are  treated  ;  easily  believe  themselves 
to  possess  the  same  character ;  and  form  strong  hopes  of  finding 


376  THE  DISAPPOINTMENTS  WHICH  WILL  TAKE     [SER.  XXV. 

hereafter  the  same  destiny.  Their  rehgious  companions,  they 
doubt  not,  will  be  saved  ;  and  entertain  almost  as  little  doubt, 
that  themselves  will  obtain  the  same  salvation. 

3dly.  Persons,  who  believe  themselves  to  he  religious  because 
others  believe  them  to  be  of  this  character^  constitute  another  class 
of  those,  who  will  experience  this  dreadful  disappointment. 

Solomon  says,  "  He  that  says  to  the  wicked,  '  Thou  art  right- 
eous,' him  shall  the  people  curse  :  nations  will  abhor  him."  This 
denunciation  was  probably  directed,  immediately,  against  such 
judges,  as  acquit  the  wicked  in  opposition  to  law,  and  truth,  and 
thus  pronounce  them  righteous.  But  it  certainly  may  with  even 
more  force  be  applied  to  those,  whether  Christians  or  Ministers, 
who  "  sew  pillows  under  all  arm-holes;"  who  "slightly  heal  the 
wound  of  the  daughter  of  God's  people  ;"  and  who  by  "  speaking 
smooth  things  cause  the  Holy  One  of  Israel  to  cease  from  before" 
mankind. 

When  we  remember  the  amazing  things,  which  have  been 
done  to  accomplish  our  salvation,  in  the  Redemption  of  Christ, 
the  mission  of  his  Spirit,  and  tlie  course  of  his  providence  ;  when 
we  remember,  that  nothing  less  than  this  could  have  accomplish- 
ed our  salvation  ;  we  cannot  avoid  the  conclusion,  that  the  moral 
character,  which  entitles  us  to  eternal  life,  the  communication  of 
which  is  the  end  of  all  these  labours,  is  not  in  man  by  the  mere 
influence,  and  in  the  usual  course,  of  nature. 

Yet  a  great  multitude  of  persons,  and  among  them  not  a  small 
number  of  preachers,  have  ever  represented  Christianity  as  noth- 
ing more  than  the  heathen  have  often  acquired,  and  Christians 
as  nothing  more  than  heathen,  enlightened,  polished,  and  im- 
proved, by  the  Gospel.  No  radical  change  of  heart,  where  these 
men  influence,  is  taught  or  believed.  To  be  pleasing  and  reputa- 
ble on  the  part  of  some  ;  to  speak  truth,  and  do  justice,  on  the 
part  of  others ;  and  to  have  done,  as  it  is  emphatically  expressed, 
no  harm,  that  is,  to  have  been  quiet,  orderly  members  of  society,  on 
the  part  of  others  still  ;  is  esteemed  a  character  sufliciently  safe, 
a  ready  passport  to  the  world  of  glory.  But  all  these  will,  at  the 
great  trial,  find  with  deep  amazement,  that  nothing  will  be  ac- 


SER.  XXV.]  PLACE  AT  THE  DAY  OF  JUDGMENT.  377 

cepted  by  God,  but  that  contrite,  believing,  and  obedient  heart, 
which  is  created  in  man  by  the  Spirit  of  Truth.  "  Except  a  man 
be  born  of  water,  and  of  the  Spirit,  he  cannot  see  the  kingdom 
of  God." 

4thly.  Another  class  of  these  persons  is  composed  of  those,  who 
place  their  religion  in  the  hioivledge,  and  not  in  the  obedience^  of 
divine  truth. 

"  Though  I  have  the  gift  of  prophecy,"  saith  St.  Paul,  "  and 
understand  all  mysteries,  and  all  knowledge,  and  have  not  love,  I 
am  nothing."  You  cannot  but  discern,  that  this  declaration  is 
absolutely  decisive,  and  cuts  off  every  hope  of  salvation  from  ev- 
ery man  who  is  not  the  subject  of  evangelical  love.  In  the  same 
manner,  saith  St.  John :  "  He,  that  loveth,"  or  is  the  subject  of 
evangelical  love,  "  is  born  of  God,  and  knoweth  God."  "  He, 
that  loveth  not,  knoweth  not  God  :  for  God  is  love."  Notwith- 
standing these  declarations,  there  are,  however,  men,  who  ac- 
knowledge the  Scriptures  to  be  the  word  of  God,  and  spend 
much  time  in  learning  their  doctrines,  and  who  yet  concern  them- 
selves with  nothing  farther.  These  men  often  think  well,  and 
converse  well,  on  divine  subjects.  Their  instructions  are  listened 
to  with  pleasure ;  received  with  respect ;  and  mentioned  with 
commendation.  As  they  naturally  love  to  dwell  upon  subjects, 
by  which  they  please  others,  and  gain  their  esteem  ;  they  are  ea- 
sily believed  to  love  the  truth,  which  they  make  so  frequently  the 
theme  of  their  conversation.  The  character,  thus  given  to  them 
by  others,  they  readily  assume  to  themselves  ;  and  with  the  aid 
of  a  little  self-complacence,  hesitate  not  to  believe  themselves  to 
be  Christians. 

These  observations  are  strongly  descriptive  of  most  Enthusi- 
asts. The  religion  of  these  men,  to  a  great  extent,  lies  in  the 
knowledge,  which  they  imagine  themselves  to  have  acquired  by 
extraordinary  communications  from  heaven.  This  knowledge 
they  are  always  eager  to  impart,  for  the  purpose,  as  they  would 
persuade  you,  of  enlightening  others ;  but  with  the  real  design  of 
exalting  themselves.  Could  thet/  be  prevented  from  talking;  or 
4)ihers  from  listening  to  them  ;  the  world  would  be  surprised  to 


^78         THE  DISAPPOINTMENTS  WHICH  WILL  TAKE      [SER,  XXV. 

find  how  little  there  was  left  of  that  religion,  which  now  makes 
so  much  bustle. 

5thly.  Another  class  of  the  same  persons  is  formed  of  those, 
who  place  their  reliance  on  their  Zeal. 

"  It  is  good,"  saith  the  Apostle  Paid^  "  to  be  zealously  affect- 
ed, always,  in  a  good  thing."  Gal  iv.  18.  A  cold,  stupid,  heart- 
less professor  of  Religion,  absorbed  in  the  concerns  of  this  world, 
gives  little  evidence,  that  his  profession  is  sincere  ;  and,  if  he  be 
a  Cliristian,  is  a  disgrace  to  the  name,  and  a  spot  upon  the  char- 
acter of  Religion.  Yet  there  is  a  zeal.,  which  is  "  not  according 
to  knowledge."  St.  Paul  testifies  this  concerning  the  Jews. 
Rom.  X.  2.  "  They  have  a  zeal  of  God,  but  not  according  to 
knowledge."  Even  Jehu  could  say  to  Jehonadab,  "  Come  with 
me,  and  see  my  zeal  for  the  Lord,"  Yet,  we  are  informed,  "  Je- 
hu look  no  heed  to  walk  in  the  law  of  the  God  of  Israel  with  all 
his  heart :  for  he  departed  not  from  the  sins  of  Jeroboam,  who 
made  Israel  to  sin."  The  zeal  of  St.  Paul,  before  his  conversion, 
was  such,  that,  as  he  himself  says,  he  was  e^uMvofjuvoi.,  entirely 
mad^  or  absolutely  delirious.,  in  opposing  Christianity. 

The  persons,  of  whom  I  speak,  are  not  only  zealous,  but  rely 
upon  their  zeal,  as  being  itself  Religion  ;  or  at  least  as  being  a 
primary  part,  and  a  chief  evidence,  of  their  Religion.  Persons 
of  this  character  are  remarkably  engaged  in  all  those  religious 
services,  which  are  seen  by  mankind  ;  and  especially  in  those, 
the  performance  of  which  is  supposed  to  require  more  than  or- 
dinary earnestness  in  the  cause  of  God.  They  are  zealous,  often, 
for  the  worship  of  the  Sabbath  ;  but  as  others,  in  great  numbers, 
are  punctual  attendants  upon  this  worship,  and  themselves,  there- 
fore, can  acquire  no  distinction  from  such  attendance,  they  are 
still  more  zealous  about  those  private  religious  meetings,  which 
are  of  mere  human  appointment,  and  are  voluntarily  entered  into 
by  Christians  for  their  mutual  comfort,  and  edification.  Such 
meetings  are  certainly  warranted  by  the  Scriptures  ;  and,  when 
conducted  with  the  order  and  decency  of  the  Gospel,  are  both 
useful,  and  commendable.  Still  they  are  not  instituted  by  God  ; 
and  can,  therefore,  hold  no  place  in  comparison  with  those,  which 


SER.  XXV.]  PLACE  AT  THE  DAY  OF  JUDGMENT.  379 

are.  The  institutions  of  God  we  are  bound  by  infinite  authority 
to  observe  ;  the  appointments  of  men  we  may  observe,  or  not,  as 
our  judgment  shall  direct :  effectual  care  being  taken,  however, 
that  we  do  not  neglect  them  from  sloth,  avarice,  pleasure,  or 
other  guilty  inducements.  Yet  I  do  not  remember  a  man  of  this 
character,  who  did  not  discover  far  more  solicitude  about  those 
religious  services  which  are  not,  than  about  those  which  are,  of 
divine  institution. 

Zeal,  which  is  not  according  to  knowledge,  is  always  censori- 
ous. Such  persons  are  hardly  willing  to  allow  those  to  be  Chris- 
tians, who  do  not  meet  when,  and  where,  they  meet ;  think  as 
they  think  ;  talk  as  they  talk  ;  and  act  as  they  act.  Mild  and 
self-governed  Christianity,  though  far  mote  correct,  more  produc- 
tive of  good  fruits,  more  amiable,  more  evangelical,  more  heaven- 
ly, and  incomparably  less  deserving  of  blame,  than  their  own 
character,  passes  with  them  for  little  or  nothing.  A  great  part 
of  their  business  is  to  judge  others ;  and  it  is  to  be  feared,  that 
they  rarely  remember  that  they  themselves  are  to  be  judged. 

6thly.  Another  class  of  the  persons  under  consideration.,  is 
formed  of  those  who  place  their  hope  in  a  Faith.,  which  is  without 
loorks. 

"  As  the  body,  without  the  spirit,  is  dead,"  saith  St.  James^ 
"  so  faith,  without  works  is  dead  also."  This  is  a  melancholy 
declaration  to  all  those  who  wish  for  a  cheap  religion,  and  intend 
to  go  to  heaven  without  self-denial.  Probably  not  a  few  of  them 
have  secretly  wished,  that  this  text,  and  the  chapter  in  which  it 
is  contained,  had  never  been  embodied  in  the  Scriptures.  It  is  a 
pleasant  thing  to  persuade  ourselves  that  we  may  "  love  the 
world,"  and  yet  "  the  love  of  the  Father  be  in  us  ;"  that  "the 
kingdom  of  God"  does  consist  "  in  meat,  and  drink ;"  in  amass- 
ing wealth,  acquiring  personal  consequence,  and  in  enjoying 
pleasure  ;  and  not  "  in  righteousness,  peace,  and  joy  in  the  Holy 
Ghost."  It  would  gratify  our  feelings  not  a  little,  if  there  were 
no  cross  to  be  taken  up  ;  no  violence  to  be  done  to  our  passions 
and  appetites  -,  no  sacrifice  to  be  made  of  our  time,  our  labours, 
our  property,  our  sensual  enjoyments,  to  God.     He,  however. 


380         THE  DISAPPOINTMENTS  WHICH  WILL  TAKE     [SER.  XXV. 

has  determined  otherwise  :  and  we  must  obtain  heaven  in  his 
way,  or  not  at  all.  Those,  who  will  "  inherit  the  kingdom"  of 
our  heavenly  Father,  are  such,  as  have  done  kind  offices  to  ihe 
brethren  of  Christ,  and,  through  them,  to  Christ  himself.  The 
fast,  which  God  has  chosen,  is,  that  we  deal  our  bread  to  the  hun- 
gry ;  that  we  bring  the  poor,  ivho  are  cast  out,  into  our  houses  ; 
when  we  see  the  naked,  that  we  cover  him  ;  and  that  we  hide  not 
ourselves  from  our  oivn  flesh.  The  faith,  by  which  alone  we  shall 
be  justified,  is  "  the  faith  which  worketh  by  love."  No  mention 
will  be  made,  in  the  the  final  day,  of  the  dead  faith  spoken  of  by 
St.  James,  and  exhibited  by  him  as  a  carcase,  without  a  soul  to 
animate  it :  and,  on  the  ground  of  such  a  faith,  no  child  of  Adam 
will  be  accepted. 

II.  Other  persons,  whom  these  expected  to  see  shut  out,  will  be 
accepted. 

Of  this  number  there  will  be. 

1st.  A  multitude  of  such,  as,  in  this  world,  have  lived  in  humble 
and  despised  circumstances. 

Pride  always  leads  us  to  imagine  ourselves  better  than  we  are  ; 
and  better,  particularly,  than  others.  Them  it  depresses  below, 
ourselves  it  elevates  above,  the  standard  of  truth.  Nor  does  this 
deceitful  passion  employ  itself  less  on  our  moral  character,  than 
on  our  wealth,  learning,  office,  or  reputation.  "  God,  I  thank 
thee,  that  I  am  not  as  other  men  are,"  is  the  language  of  im- 
mense multitudes,  who  would  disdain  to  be  called  Pharisees. 
The  hypocrite  says,  with  great  self-complacency,  to  the  open  sin- 
ner, "  Stand  by  thyself;  for  I  am  holier  than  thou."  The  open 
sinner  desires  to  be  thankful,  that  he  is  no  hypocrite.  The  en- 
thusiast pities  the  cold  rational  man,  because  he  is  not  distinguish- 
ed by  the  peculiar  tokens  of  divine  favour,  which  himself  enjoys. 
The  rational  man  blesses  himself  that  he  is  not  bewildered  by 
the  delirious  vagaries  of  the  enthusiast. 

When  we  compare  ourselves  with  those,  who  are  greatly  be- 
neath us  in  external  advantages,  we  give  ourselves  more  credit, 
and  them  less,  than  we  otherwise  could  do.  A  poor  man  is  apt 
to  be  considered  as  more  beneath  us  in  moral  worth,  than  we 


[SER.  XXV.]        PLACE  AT  THE  DAY  OF  JUDGMENT.  381 

should  imagine,  if  he  were  rich;  an  ignorant  man,  than  if  he  were 
learned  ;  an  humble  man,  than  if  he  were  in  an  elevated  station. 
Hence  we  naturally  suppose,  that  such  men  are  not  regarded 
by  God  with  the  same  favour,  which  we  claim  to  ourselves. 
Much  less  can  we  believe  them  to  be  objects  of  the  divine  favour, 
and  ourselves  objects  of  wrath  and  indignation. 

Multitudes  of  such  men  are,  however,  sincere  followers  of 
Christ,  and  genuine  children  of  God.  All  these,  at  the  final 
day,  the  Judge  will  summon  to  his  right  hand  ;  and  their  appear- 
ance in  that  enviable  place  will  excite  not  a  little  astonishment  in 
those,  by  whom  they  have  been  despised  in  the  present  world. 
To  see  the  man  of  rags,  and  wretchedness,  clothed  in  fine  linen, 
white  and  clean;  exalted  from  a  dunghill  to  a  throne  ;  translated 
from  insignificance,  and  contempt,  to  glory,  honour,  and  immor- 
tality ;  and  from  ignorance  and  weakness,  elevated  to  superiour 
knowledge  and  divine  wisdom ;  while  we,  in  our  own  conceit, 
already  wise,  and  great,  and  good,  are  given  over  to  shame  and 
abhorrence ;  will  seem  to  us  a  wonderful  dispensation. 

2dly.  In  this  number  will  be  found  great  multitudes,  who  have 
heen  our  own  friends,  companions,  and  equals,  in  the  present 
world. 

Nothing  seems  more  natural  than  the  belief,  that  those,  who 
have  lived  together  as  husbands  and  wives,  brothers  and  sisters, 
friends  and  neighbours,  companions  and  equairs ;  on  the  same 
level,  with  the  same  reputation,  in  the  same  pursuits,  and  with 
the  same  testimonies  of  esteem  and  affection  from  those  around 
them ;  are  of  the  same  moral  character,  and  destined  to  the 
same  allotments  beyond  the  grave.  Yet  some  of  these  are  to- 
tally unlike  others.  Some  are  Christians  in  deed,  and  in  truth  ,• 
others  in  name  only.  Some  are  children  of  God  ;  others  children 
of  the  Devil.  Some  are  heirs  of  endless  life  ;  and  others,  of  end- 
less death.  As  unlike,  as  are  their  mora!  characters  here,  will 
be  their  destiny  hereafter.  When  the  final  separation  is  made, 
those,  who  are  summoned  to  the  left  hand  of  the  Judge  will  with 
deep  amazement  see  their  companions  and  equals  placed  on  the 
right. 

Vol.  n.  49 


S82         THE  DISAPPOINTMENTS  WHICH  WILL  TAKE    [SER.  XXV, 

3dly.  In  this  nvmher  will  he  included^  also,  a  multitude  of  per- 
sons, loho,  in  this  ivorld,  appear  to  be  religious,  and  are,  on  that 
account,  despised  hy  others. 

Most  men  easily  believe,  that  others  despise  those,  who  are  des- 
pised by  themselves  ;  and  that  they  are,  deservedly  objects  of  con- , 
tempt ;  and  can  hardly  believe,  therefore,  that  they  are  entitled 
to  the  favour  of  God,  Yet  this  is  true  of  every  really  religious 
man :  and  every  such  man  is  found  among  those,  who  appear  to 
be  religious.  However  contemned,  then,  such  persons  may  be, 
and  however  hated  such  persons  are,  in  the  present  world  ;  they 
will  be  "  remembered"  by  God  "  in  the  day,  when  he  maketh  up 
his  jewels,  and"  he  "  will  spare  them,  as  a  man  spareth  his  own 
son  that  serveth  him." 

4thly.  Of  this  number,  also,  will  be  found  those,  whose  ac- 
knowledged characters,  and.  opinions,  have,  in  maiiy  respects, 
been  different  from  ours. 

Difference  in  religious  opinions  is  extremely  apt  to  alienate 
men  from  each  other ;  and  to  generate  uncharitableness,  censure, 
hatred,  and  obloquy.  Ardent  and  rash  men,  on  the  ground  of 
this  diiference,  at  times  pronounce  each  other  to  be  heretics,  and 
deny  to  each  other  the  character  of  Christians.  Especially,  when 
open  debates  have  arisen,  and  the  spirit  of  controversy  has  be- 
come warm  ;  when  the  theme  of  contention  has  become  public, 
and  the  doctrines  in  question  have  acquired  peculiar  importance, 
from  the  zeal  with  which  they  have  been  disputed  ;  we  are  prone 
to  forget  the  question  of  St.  Paul,  ''  Who  art  thou,  that  judgest 
another  man^s  servant  ?"  The  dislike  of  Luther,  and  his  follow- 
ers, to  those  who  denied  his  favourite  doctrine  of  Consubstantia- 
tion,  was  little  less,  than  to  the  Romanists  ;  and  his  censures  of 
them,  were  scarcely  less  severe.  The  same  feelings,  and  the 
same  conduct,  produced  by  similar  causes,  have  been  predicable 
of  men,  in  every  Christian  age  and  country.  Multitudes  of  per- 
sons, who  have  been  guilty  of  this  unchristian  conduct,  will  here- 
after see  the  very  objects  of  their  hatred  and  obloquy,  heirs  of  the 
everlasting  favour  of  God.  It  is  true,  that  many  of  those,  who 
have  been  guilty  of  this  censoriousness,  afterwards  regret  it,  as 


5>ER.  XXV.]        PLACE  AT  THE  DAY  OF  JUDGMENT.  383 

Luther  did,  in  the  decline  of  life.  Witli  others,  there  is  reason 
to  fear,  it  descends  to  the  grave  and  enters  eternity.  These  will 
probably  find,  that,  while  the  opinions,  of  which  they  judged  so 
hardly,  do  not  prevent  the  objects  of  their  severity  from  being 
admitted  into  heaven,  themselves  will  be  precluded  by  their  own 
anti-christian  dispositions.  Happily  for  us,  "  it  is  a  small  thing 
to  be  judged  by  man's  judgment."  Happily  for  us,  Christ  alone 
can  finally  condemn. 

In  the  same  manner,  different  Churches^  and  Sects^  are  prone 
to  regard  each  other  with  alienation  and  animosity;  and  to  speak 
of  each  other  in  the  language  of  enemies,  and  not  of  Christians. 
Those,  which  are  numerous,  always  feel  strong  in  their  numbers; 
and,  constituting  the  tribunals,  which  confer  reputation  and  stamp 
disgrace,  become  assured  that  they  and  those  who  think  with 
them,  are  founded  on  truth,  and  that  salvation  is  encircled  by 
their  own  pale.  The  smaller,  humbler,  and  less  reputable,  sects 
of  Christians,  they  place,  of  course,  without  the  limits  of  the  Gos- 
pel, and  the  reach  of  divine  favour.  In  both  respects  they  will 
be  greatly  disappointed  in  the  great  day  of  account.  No  ques- 
tions will  be  asked  by  Him,  who  "  is  no  respecter  of  persons," 
concerning  the  name,  which  an  individual  has  borne  in  this  world, 
or  concerning  the  Church,  or  the  Sect,  to  which  he  belonged. 
He,  "  who  worketh  righteousness""  in  this  world,  will,  in  the  world 
to  come,  be  accepted ;  by  whatever  title  he  may  have  been  dis- 
tinguished here.  The  conventicle,  or* the  barn,  will  probably 
send  many  of  its  worshippers  to  heaven  ;  while  by  the  splendid 
church  many  outside  devotees  will  be  yielded  up  to  shame,  and 
everlasting  contempt. 
K  On  the  other  hand,  small  sects  exercise  exactly  the  same  spirit 
towards  those  which  are  larger,  and,  in  the  eye  of  the  world, 
more  honourable.  Under  its  influence  they  adopt  the  same  hos- 
tile conduct,  and  are  equally  uncharitable,  censorious,  and  bitter. 
But  hereafter  they  will  see,  and  undoubtedly  will  be  astonished 
to  see,  in  y,ery  many  instances,  those,  who  have  b^^gn  members  of 
EstaDmlied,"^^d,  as  tmy  are  pleased  to  style  them,  Rornjp^  and 
SftfeJ^hurches,  "  sitting  down  with  Abraham,  Isaac,  and  Jacob, 
and  themselves  thrust  out." 


384  THE  DISAPPOINTMENTS,  &c.  [SER.  XXV. 

When  we  look  at  the  Sect,  or  Church,  of  which  ourselves 
are  members,  we  are  but  too  ready  to  cry,  "The  temple  of  the 
Lord,  the  temple  of  the  Lord,  the  temple  of  the  Lord,  are  these." 
When  we  look  at  those,  which  differ  from  us,  especially  if  they 
are  in  any  respect  seriously  opposed  to  us,  we  are  but  too  ready  to 
consider  them  as  the  synagogue  of  Satan.  We  ought  to  re- 
member, that  the  name,  the  church,  the  sect,  is  nothing ;  and 
that  the  heart  is  all.  A  purified  mind,  in  a  purified  body,  "  re- 
newed after  the  image  of  God,  in  knowledge,  righteousness,  and 
holiness  of  truth,"  is  the  only  real  "  temple  of  the  Holy  Ghost," 
below  the  sun  ;  the  habitation,  in  which  this  divine  guest  loves  to 
dwell  here,  and  in  which  beyond  the  grave  he  will  dwell  forever. 


SERMON  XXVI 


THE  DISAPPOINTMENTS,  WHICH  WILL  TAKE  PLACE  AT  THE  DAY 
OF  JUDGMENT.— Sermon  II. 

Luke  xiii.  28—30. 

There  shall  he  weeping  and  gnashing  of  teeth,  when  ye  shall 
see  Abraham,  and  Isaac,  and  Jacob,  and  all  the  prophets,  in  the 
kingdom  of  Gon,  and  you  yourselves  thrust  out. 

And  they  shall  come  from  the  east,  and  from  the  west,  and  from 
the  north,  and  from  the  south;  and  shall  sit  down  in  the  kingdom 
of  God. 

And,  behold,  there  are  last,  which  shall  he  first ;  and  there  arc 
first,  which  shall  he  last. 

In  the  former  part  of  this  discourse,  after  explaining  the  im- 
port of  the  text,  I  derived  from  it  the  following  doctrines  : 

I.  That  some  of  the  human  race  will  be  shut  out  from  the  king- 
dom of  God,  who  have  confidently  expected  admission. 

II.  That  others,  whom  they  expected  to  see  shut  out,  will  be 
received. 

III.  That  the  distress,  occasioned  by  this  disappointment,  will 
be  very  great. 

The  two  first  of  these  doctrines  I  considered  at  that  time. 
Under  the  former  I  observed,  that  in  the  number  of  those,  who 
will  thus  be  excluded  from  the  divine  kingdom,  will  be 

1st.  All,  who  leave  the  world,  relying  on  their  own  righteous- 
ness for  acceptance  with  Gob. 

This  comprehensive  description,  I  observed,  includes  smc//,  as 
confide  in  the  external  services  of  Religion  ;  superstitious  per- 
sons ;  enthusiasts  ;  persons,  who  trust  in  a  decent  and  amiable 
behaviour ;  and  persons,  who  build  their  hopes  upon  tvhat  are 
called  the  moral  duties  of  life. 


386         THE  DISAPPOINTMENTS  WHICH  WILL  TAKE    [SER.  XXVI. 

2dly.  I  mentioned  those,  who  rely  upon  what  may  be  called  a 
religious  character;  such,  for  example,  as  those  of  Communi- 
cants, or  Ministers  ;  as  destined  to  the  same  unhappy  end. 

3dly.  Those,  who  believe  themselves  to  be  religious,  because  oth- 
ers suppose  them  to  be  of  this  character. 

4thly.  Those,  who  place  their  religion  in  the  knowledge,  and 
not  in  the  obedience,  of  divine  truth. 

5thly.   Those,  who  place  their  reliance  on  their  zeal.     And, 

6thly.  Those,  who  place  their  hope  in  a  faith,  which  is  without 
iDorks. 

II.  Of  the  persons  whom  these  expected  to  see  shut  out,  and 
who  will  nevertheless  be  accepted,  I  observed, 

1st.  There  ZLnll  be  a  multitude  of  such,  as,  in  this  world  have 
lived  in  humble  and  despised  circumstances. 

2dly.  Of  those,  who  have  here  been  our  friends,  companions, 
and  equals. 

3dly.  Of  those,  who,  in  this  world,  appear  to  be  religious,  and 
are,  on  that  account,  despised  by  others.     And, 

4thly.  Of  those,  whose  acknowledged  characters,  and  opinions, 
have,  in  many  respects,  been  different  from  ours. 

I  shall  now  proceed  to  finish  the  discourse  ;  and,  according  to 
the  plan  proposed,  observe, 

III.  That  the  Distress,  occasioned  by  this  disappointment,  will 
be  very  great. 

"  Weeping,  and  gnashing  of  teeth,"  are  glowing  images  of  ex- 
treme anguish :  and  this  anguish  is,  by  our  Saviour,  attributed  to 
the  two-fold  disappointment,  mentioned  in  the  text.  What  less 
can  be  believed,  from  the  nature  of  the  subject?  The  disappoint- 
ment will  follow  strong  and  high  raised  expectations  ;  and,  in 
many  instances,  undoubting  confidence.  It  will  be  a  final  disap- 
pointment. It  will  be  a  disappointment  of  every  object,  for 
which  we  can  hope  ;  of  every  good,  which  we  are  capable  of 
enjoying.  It  will  be  a  disappointment,  on  which  "  Mene,  Tekel, 
Upharsin,"  will  be  all  written,  and  on  which  eternity  will  be 
stamped,  by  the  hand  of  Jehovah.  The  portion  of  those,  who 
considered  themselves  as  the  only  children,  will  be  taken  away  / 


SER.  XXVI.]        PLACE  AT  THE  DAY  OF  JUDGMENT.  387 

and^  to  add  to  the  sore  mortification,  it  will  he  given  to  those, 
whom  they  esteemed  dogs.  They  will  not  only  be  sunk  to  the 
depths  of  depression,  but  will  also  see  those,  to  whom  they  had 
always  felt  themselves  greatly  superiour,  elevated  to  supreme  and 
endless  distinction.  To  behold  mere  rabble,  the  refuse  of  man- 
kind, the  offscouring  of  all  things,  raised  to  the  most  enviable 
station  and  happiness  ;  and  ourselves,  the  great,  the  wise,  and 
the  honourable,  the  true  church,  the  chosen  people  of  God, 
"  thrust  into  outer  darkness^"  with  extreme  disgrace,  and  inter- 
minable woe  ;  must  be  to  be  poor,  and  miserable,  indeed.  Who 
could  bear  such  a  change  even  in  the  present  world?  Who,  much 
more,  can  bear  it,  when  every  hope  is  buried  in  the  grave  ?  What 
amazement,  what  anguish,  will  be  felt  when  the  workers  of  ini- 
quity look  around  them,  and  see  of  whom  their  assembly  is  com- 
posed !  What  emotions  will  be  excited,  particularly,  when  they 
see  themselves  of  this  number !  themselves ;  whose  character 
has,  in  their  own  view,  been  always  so  meritorious,  so  good,  as  to 
make  it  absolutely  improbable,  and  nearly  impossible,  that  God 
should  condemn  them  ?  Who  have  performed  all  external  reli- 
gious services  with  so  much  exactness  ?  Who  have  scrupulously 
done  even  little,  and  uncommanded  things,  in  order  to  be  secure 
of  doing  every  thing  necessary  ?  Who  have  received  such  imme- 
diate communications  from  God,  as  proved  them  to  be  his  pecu- 
liar favourites  !  Who  have  been  peculiarly  decent  and  amiable 
in  their  lives?  and  Who  have  performed  the  moral  duties  with 
such  care,  that  they  could  come  to  Christ,  and  ask  with  confi- 
dence, "  What  lack  we  yet  ?"  How  will  they  be  astonished  to 
find  themselves  of  this  number,  although  they  have  been  Com- 
municants in  the  church  of  God  !  nay.  Ministers  of  that  church  ; 
although  they  have  been  acknowledged,  by  all  around  them,  to 
be  Christians ;  although  they  have  thought  correctly,  and  conver- 
sed wisely,  on  the  doctrines  and  duties  of  Religion  ;  although  they 
have  been  peculiarly  zealous  in  its  cause  ;  although  they  have 
believed  the  Gospel,  without  a  single  doubt  concerning  its  divine 
origin  ! 


388         THE  DISAPPOINTMENTS  WHICH  WILL  TAKE    [SER.  XXVL 

How  much  will  this  surprise  be  increased,  when,  extending 
this  survey,  they  behold  those  friends  and  neighbours  who  flat- 
tered them,  both  by  their  conversation  and  their  example,  into  a 
belief  that  they  were  safe  ;  and  the  Ministers,  who  taught  them 
from  the  desk,  that  these  things  would  secure  their  title  to  hea- 
ven ;  involved  in  the  same  'uin  !  How  unspeakably  will  this  as- 
tonishment be  increased,  when  they  see  multitudes  of  the  poor 
and  despised,  the  objects  of  their*  scorn  and  abhorrence,  their 
servants,  clowns,  and  beggars,  admitted  at  the  same  time,  with 
an  abundant  entrance,  into  the  kingdom  of  God  !  What  pangs 
will  harrass  their  bosoms,  when  they  see  their  husbands,  their 
wives,  their  children,  their  brothers,  their  companions,  their  equals, 
seated  on  the  right  hand  of  the  Judge,  in  glory  inexpressible ; 
and  themselves  on  the  left,  doomed  to  shame  and  everlasting 
contempt !  How  will  they  be  amazed  to  find  those,  who  differed 
greatly  from  themselves  in  religious  character,  and  opinions,  so 
greatly,  as  to  be  pronounced  by  them  Heretics  and  outcasts  from 
the  church  ;  and  who  were  members  of  churches,  or  sects,  which 
they  believed  to  be  without  the  pale  of  salvation  ;  acknowledged 
by  Christ  as  his  true  followers,  and  made  heirs  of"  the  kingdom, 
prepared  for"  the  righteous  "  from  the  foundation  of  the  world  !" 
Well  may  we  suppose,  that  "  there  will"  then  "  be  weeping,  and 
gnashing  of  teeth." 

REMARKS. 

From  these  solemn  and  affecting  considerations,  we  can  hard- 
ly fail  to  derive  many,  and  those  most  important,  practical  les- 
sons. 

1st.  We  are  strongly  urged  by  them  to  the  most  watchful  care 
in  determining  what  the  genuine  religion^  required,  by  the  Gos- 
pel^ is. 

W^e  have  here  seen,  that  not  only  many  individuals,  but  many 
numerous  classes  of  mankind,  and  all  these  inhabitants,  also,  of 
Christian  countries,  will,  but  too  probably,  be  finally  deprived  of 
salvation.     For  this  melancholy  fact  there  is  a  peculiar  cause  ; 


SER.  XXVI.]       PLACE  AT  THE  DAY  OF  JUDGMENT.  389 

and  that  cause  may  be  easily  and  certainly  discerned.  All  these 
men  have  totally  mistaken  the  real  ground  of  salvation^  or  the  true 
nature  of  that  religion^  to  tvhich  salvation  is  annexed  by  the  Scrip- 
tures ;  and  have  supposed  it  to  consist  in  that,  in.  which  the  Scrip- 
tures have  not  made  it  to  consist.  You  will  naturally  ask, 
"  Whence  this  mistake  has  arisen  V  Is  the  subject  so  difficult  in 
its  nature  ?  Are  the  Scriptures,  which  communicate  it  to  us,  so 
perplexed,  doubtful,  and  obscure,  that  such  multitudes  of  man- 
kind, and  among  them  many,  who  are  well  informed  and  even 
learned  in  subjects  of  Theology,  have  not  sufficient  understand- 
ing to  discern  its  nature  '(  I  answer,  "  No  :"  Neither  of  these  is 
the  cause  of  the  disastrous  conduct,  and  ruinous  consequences, 
which  we  have  been  employed  in  examining.  The  nature  of 
genuine  Religion  may  be  easily  understood  ;  and  is  unfolded  in 
the  Gospel  clearly,  and  exactly.  All  the  real  difficulty  in  the  na- 
ture of  the  case,  lies  in  the  Application  of  the  Evangelical  doc- 
trines concerning  this  subject  to  ourselves.  This,  I  admit,  is  a 
task  really  attended  with  difficulties ;  and  liable  in  a  greater  or 
less  degree,  to  the  intervention  of  error.  Yet  it  is  fraught  with 
no  such  obstacles,  no  such  necessary  perplexities,  as  to  prevent 
uneducated  peasants,  beggars,  and  even  little  children,  from  be- 
coming christians  in  deed,  and  in  truth.  The  subjects  of  error, 
who  have  been  mentioned  in  this  discourse,  have  not  learned 
their  mistakes  from  the  Bible  ;  nor  fallen  into  them  from  any  ne- 
cessary misconception  of  its  doctrines,  nor  from  any  perplexity, 
obscurity,  or  other  defect  in  the  manner,  in  which  they  are  there 
communicated.  They  have  made  their  errors  for  themselves.  The 
Bible  has  no  where  taught  us  to  trust  in  our  righteousness  for  ac- 
ceptance ;  but,  in  the  most  explicit  manner,  has  required  us  to 
trust  only  in  the  righteousness  of  Christ.  Surely  there  needs  be 
no  mistake,  here,  in  the  mind  of  any  man.  The  Bible  has  no 
where  annexed  salvation  to  the  external  services  of  Religion ; 
nor  to  the  scrupulous  observances  of  the  Superstitious.  The 
Bible  has  no  where,  in  a  single  hint,  taught  us  to  expect  imme- 
diate communications  from  God  ;  nor  promised  a  single  blessing 
to  Enthusiasm.  No  where  in  the  sacred  canoo  is  the  merely  de- 
Vol.  II.  #0 


390       THE  DISAPPOINTMENTS  WHICH  WILL  TAKE      [SER.  XXVI 

cent,  amiable  man  permitted  to  hope  for  eternal  life.  Let  the 
Moralist  also,  however  scrupulous  and  exact  he  may  be,  explore 
the  whole  code  of  Revelation  ;  and  he  will  not  find  a  single 
promise  of  future  good  made  to  him.  Equally  at  a  loss  will  he 
be,  who,  because  he  is  born  of  religious  parents,  or  is  a  Member, 
or  Minister,  of  the  Christian  Church,  regards  himself  as  a  religious 
man,  to  find  the  least  encouragement,  given  to  him  in  the  Gos- 
pel, of  acceptance  with  God.  Nor  has  the  Saviour,  nor  have 
the  Apostles,  nor  the  Prophets,  even  hinted,  that  any  man  is  reli- 
gious, because  other  men  believe  this  to  be  his  character.  Nor 
have  they  taught  us,  that  this  divine  attribute  consists  at  all  in 
Speculative  knowledge  ;  or  in  Zeal ;  or  in  the  "  Faith,  which  is 
without  works." 

If  religion  is  made  to  consist  in  any,  or  all,  of  these  things  ;  or 
if  salvation  is  promised  to  those  who  possess  them  ;  1  ask,  in  what 
part  of  the  Sacred  volume  is  this  declared?  I  have  read  the 
Scriptures  for  many  years ;  and  with  some  attention  ;  but  have- 
never  met  with  a  single  suggestion  of  this  nature  ;  and,  therefore, 
boldly  pronounce,  that  there  is  not  one.  But  if  there  is  no  sug- 
ge?^tion  of  this  kind  in  the  Scriptures  ;  surely  they  are  not  char- 
geable with  being  the  source  of  these  errors. 

The  Religion  of  the  Gospel  consists  in  faith,  repentance,  and 
holiness.  But  the  Faith  is  not  "  the  faith,  which  is  without  works.'' 
By  such  a  faith,  St.  James  expressly  declares,  no  man  can  be  jus- 
tified, or  saved.  It  is  the  faith,  not  of  Simon  Magus,  but  of  the 
Eunuch,  whom  Philip  baptized.  It  is  "  believing  with  all  the 
heart."  It  is  "  receiving  the  truth  in  the  love  of  it."  It  is  "  be- 
lieving with  the  heart  unto  righteousness  :"  that  is  a  faith  produc- 
tive of  righteousness.  It  is  "  the  faith,  which  worketh  by  love  ;" 
and  therefore  "  purifieth  the  heart ;"  and  therefore  "  overcometh 
the  world  ;  and  therefore  looses  the  hold,  which  the  world  natu- 
rally has  on  the  heart  of  man. 

Equally  clear  is  the  Scriptural  doctrine  of  that  Repentance,, 
which  it  declares  to  be  "  unto  life."  There  is  a  repentance,  which 
is  there  called  the  "  sorrow  of  this  world,"  and  is  said  to  "  work 
death."     By  divines  it  is  often  called  false  repentance ;  that  is  re- 


SER.  XXVI.]        PLACE  AT  THE  DAY  OF  JUDGMENT.  391 

pentance,  which  is  not  genuine,  but  is  falsely,  or  erroneously,  con- 
ceived to  be  such.  These  two  affections  of  the  mind  are  in  the 
Scriptures,  distinguished  by  two  Greek  words ;  fxttane-Ksa,  which 
invariably  is  used  to  denote  this  natural  sorrow  for  sin,  as  injuri- 
ous to  our  happiness ;  or  the  erroneous  repentance,  which  has 
been  mentioned  ;  and  fistdvota,  which  denotes  a  real  and  perma- 
ment  change  in  the  disposition  for  the  better.  A  sorrow  for  sin, 
as  being  unworthy,  and  guilty,  in  itself;  as  dishonourable  to  God, 
and  injurious  to  mankind.  The  account,  universally  given  in  the 
Scriptures  of  these  two  affections  of  the  heart,  is  every  where 
correspondent  with  the  proper  meaning  of  these  words,  as  here 
expressed.  A  plain  man  may,  therefore,  easily  understand  the 
distinction  between  them. 

Equally  intelligible  is  the  Scriptural  exhibition  of  Holiness. 
Evangelical  holiness  is  obedience  to  the  two  great  commands  of 
the  moral  law  :  "  Thou  shalt  love  the  Lord  thy  God,  with  all  thy 
heart,  and  with  all  thy  soul,  and  with  all  thy  strength,  and  with 
all  thine  understanding ;  and  thou  shalt  love  thy  neighbour  as 
thyself."  Certainly,  these  commands  are  among  the  most  per- 
spicuous sentences,  which  can  be  found  in  language :  and  no 
man,  it  is  believed,  who  is  willing  to  let  them  speak  for  them- 
selves, ever  mistook  their  meaning  in  any  such  manner,  as  to 
lead  him  dangerously  astray.  But,  plain  as  is  the  nature  of  the 
faith,  repentance,  and  holiness,  which  form  the  religion  of  the 
Gospel,  that  religion,  as  we  have  seen,  has  been  frequently,  and 
fatally,  misapprehended.  The  evil,  of  which  I  complain,  lies  in 
the  heart  of  those,  who  thus  misapprehend.  They  love  not 
real  Religion  ;  and  yet  wish  to  be  saved.  They  are  willing  to  be 
externally  religious,  even  in  a  superstitous  and  burdensome  de- 
gree. They  love  to  have  it  thought,  that  they  are  renewed  ;  that 
they  receive  extraordinary  communications  from  heaven,  and  are 
its  distinguished  favorites.  They  often  are  disposed  to  be  decent 
and  amiable  in  their  deportment.  They  are  willing  to  understand 
the  doctrines  of  Religion  ;  and  are  pleased  to  converse  about 
them.  They  love  often  to  be  zealous ;  and  to  be  moral ;  so  far 
as  their  external  conduct  is  concerned.     All  these  things  pro- 


392        THE  DISAPPOINTMENTS  WHICH  WILL  TAKE     [SER.  XXVL 

mote  their  reputation ;  gratify  their  pride ;  contribute  to  their 
convenience  ;  quiet  the  reproaches  of  conscience  ;  and  comfort 
them  with  the  hope  of  obtaining  eternal  hfe.  But,  although  some 
of  these  things  are  indispensable  duties  of  a  religious  man,  and 
essential  to  a  religious  life,  they  are  in  no  sense  Religion  itself. 
All  of  them  may  exist ;  and  yet  the  subject  of  them  be  entirely 
alienated  from  God,  and  an  heir  of  final  condemnation. 

As,  then,  we  have  seen  so  many  of  our  fellow  men  fatally  de- 
ceived with  respect  to  this  great  subject ;  and  as  we,  in  pursuing 
the  same  courses,  shall  be  deceived  in  the  same  manner ;  it  be- 
comes immensely  important  to  every  one  of  this  assembly  to  de- 
termine what  the  genuine  religion,  required  by  the  Gospel,  is. 
The  great  rule  for  coming  to  a  final  decision  on  this  point  is,  in 
my  apprehension,  this  :  to  receive  the  declarations  of  the  Sacred 
Volume  ill  their  plain,  obvious  sense.  Christ,  the  Prophets  and 
Apostles,  always  addressed  themselves  to  men,  almost  universally 
plain,  and  uneducated.  They  intended,  that  these  men  should 
understand  them  ;  and,  therefore,  spoke  a  language,  which  could 
be  understood  by  such  men.  But  such  men  are  unable  to  an- 
nex any  meaning  to  language,  except  the  obvious  one.  In  all 
ordinary  cases,  therefore,  the  obvious  meaning  must  be  the  right. 
Were  this  rule  cordially  observed  ;  the  difficulties,  usually  found 
in  determining  on  the  religion  of  the  Gospel,  would  vanish. 

2dly.  With  these  solemn  considerations  in  view,  let  me  also 
urge  every  member  of  this  assembly,  to  examine  the  grounds  of 
his  own  hope  of  salvation. 

If  the  observations,  made  in  the  former  part  of  this  discourse 
are  just ;  multitudes  of  those  who  believe  themselves  to  be  Chris- 
tians, will  be  fearfully  disappointed  at  the  final  day.  They  will 
go  to  their  account  with  strong  expectations  of  being  accepted ; 
but  will  nevertheless  be  cast  out.  "  Am  I,  or  am  I  not,  of  this 
unhappy  number  V  is  a  question,  which  is  of  infinite  moment  to 
every  member  of  this  assembly.  The  solution  of  it  is,  indeed  at 
hand.  If  you  repent ;  if  you  believe  ;  if  you  obey ;  you  will  be 
saved  :  if  not ;  you  will  be  lost.  Could  these  things,  or  either  of 
them,  be  satisfactorily  determined  ;  this  solution  would  be  com- 


sER.  XXV.]        PLACE  AT  THE  DAY  OF  JUDGMENT.  393 

plete.  But  there  are,  I  acknowledge,  very  serious  difficulties,  in 
many  cases  at  least,  in  obtaining  such  satisfaction ;  the  difficul- 
ties which  I  have  already  mentioned,  as  lying  in  tlie  Application 
of  the  Evangelical  doctrines^  concerning  this  subject  to  ourselves. 
The  defect,  here,  is  not  however  in  the  doctrines,  but  in  us.  So 
many  of  our  natural  affections  resemble  those,  Vvhich  are  Evan- 
gelical ;  the  resemblance  itself  is  often  so  strong  ;  the  motives, 
from  which  we  act,  are  sometimes  so  difficult  to  be  distinguished  : 
and  we  are  such  partial  and  othervi'ise  such  imperfect  judges ; 
that  there  is  frequently  not  a  little  reason  to  distrust  our  decis- 
ions. The  importance  of  the  case  is,  however,  such,  as  to  de- 
mand every  effort  which  we  are  able  to  make,  for  the  purpose  of 
obtaining  a  satisfactory  and  safe  determination.  If  We  are  faith- 
ful to  ourselves  ;  if  we  diligently  search  the  Scriptures ;  if  we 
watchfully  enquire  into  the  state  of  our  hearts,  and  lives ;  if  we 
humbly  ask  God  to  direct  us  in  all  our  investigations ;  we  have 
every  encouragement  to  believe  that  we  shall  proceed  with  safe- 
ty. The  evidence  of  our  piety  may  not  be,  indeed,  so  great  as 
we  should  wish;  yet  I  am  persuaded  it  will  be  such,  as  to  pre- 
vent us  from  being  discouraged,  and  to  keep  us  alive  in  the  Chris- 
tian course. 

But  the  examination,  which  1  here  mean  especially  to  urge 
upon  you,  is  that,  which  respects  the  several  sources  of  self-delu- 
sion mentioned  in  the  former  part  of  this  discourse.  Are  you  not 
in  danger,  from  one  or  other  of  these  causes,  of  the  deplorable 
disappointment  there  specified  ?  Have  you  not  been  accustom- 
ed to  expect  salvation  from  your  ovv^n  righteousness  ?  Do  you 
not  expect  it  from  your  performance  of  the  external  duties  of  Re- 
ligion, and  Morality  ;  from  the  decency  of  your  deportment,  or 
the  amiableness  of  your  character ;  from  your  zeal  ;  from  your 
ability  to  understand,  and  converse  about,  religious  subjects  ; 
from  your  integrity,  justice,  and  kindness  to  others  ;  or  from  your 
unqualified  belief  of  the  Scriptures,  a  belief,  however,  producing 
no  valuable  fruits  in  your  hearts  or  in  your  lives  1 

Not  one  of  you  intends  finally  to  perish.  On  something  which 
you  have  done,  or  something  which  you  expect  to  do,  every  one 


394         THE  DISAPPOINTMENTS  WHICH  WILL  TAKE    [SER.  XX^  I. 

of  you  relies  for  acceptance  with  God.  Many  of  you,  I  presume, 
look  to  that  broken  reed,  a  distant,  perhaps  a  death-bed,  repent- 
ance ;  hut  many  of  you  trust,  it  is  to  be  feared,  in  what  you  al- 
ready are,  or  have  already  done.  But,  if  you  are  not  Christians 
in  deed  ;  nothing  which  you  are,  nothing  which  you  have  done, 
will  furnish  you  with  the  least  consolation  at  the  final  trial. 

Let  me  beseech  every  one  of  you  to  reflect  solemnly,  and  deep- 
ly, on  the  immense  importance  of  this  amazing  subject.  You 
will  all  soon  "  stand  before  the  judgment-seat  of  Christ."  How 
will  you  severally  be  received  ?  What  account  will  you  give  ? 
What  sentence  will  you  hear  ?  Whither  will  you  go  from  the 
trial  ? 

Are  you  prepared  to  recite  your  faith  in  Christ ;  your  repent- 
ance towards  God  ;  and  your  obedience  to  his  holy  law  ?  The 
truth,  whatever  it  is,  whatever  it  shall  be,  you  must  declare.  Be- 
fore Him,  "  who  searcheth  the  hearts,  and  trieth  the  reins,"  no 
falsehood,  no  disguise,  no  concealment,  can  avail.  Can  the  poor, 
naked,  disembodied  soul,  alone  and  friendless,  sustain  a  denial 
in  that  day  ?  Can  any  member  of  this  audience  endure  to  go 
into  the  presence  of  the  glorious  Redeemer,  and  say,  "  Lord,  I 
have  eaten  and  drunk  in  thy  presence,  and  thou  hast  taught  in 
our  streets  ;"  and  hear  him  reply,  "  Depart  from  me,  I  know  thee 
not,  thou  worker  of  iniquity  V 

Can  you  endure  to  hear  the  sentence  of  final  reprobation  pro- 
nounced on  j/ou,  to  be  thrust  out  of  the  kingdom  of  God,  to  see 
heaven  shut  to  you  forever,  to  behold  immortal  life,  the  last  com- 
fort, and  the  last  hope,  vanish  ?  Can  you  bear  to  see  God  hide 
his  smile  of  mercy,  his  children  withdraw  from  you,  their  ene- 
mies, and  yours,  approach  to  hear  your  condemnation,  and  tri- 
umph in  your  ruin,  the  world  of  darkness  unfold  its  wide  and  mel- 
ancholy gates  ?  Can  you  endure  to  hear  the  chains  of  misery 
clank,  and  the  groans  of  endless  mourning  echo  around  the  dis- 
mal region  ?  to  see  the  stream  of  everlasting  sorrow  flow  from 
every  eye  ?  and  to  hear  the  curse  of  eternal  rebellion  howl 
through  the  dreary  and  desolate  midnight  forever  ? 


SER.  XXVI.]     THE  DISAPPOINTMENTS  WHICH  WILL  TAKE        395 

How  changed  will  be  the  scene  from  your  present  enjoyments, 
and  your  present  hopes  !  Now  you  are  probationers  for  immortal 
life,  and  peace,  and  joy.  Now  you  are  alive  ;  in  the  house  of 
God  ;  in  his  immediate  and  gracious  presence.  You  come,  and 
may  come  boldly,  to  offer  your  prayers,  and  present  your  praises. 
You  come  to  "  seek  him,  while  he  may  be  found  ;  to  call  upon 
him,  while  he  is  near ;"  to  ask  the  forgiveness  of  your  sins,  the 
renovation  of  your  souls,  and  your  deliverance  from  endless  woe. 
You  come  to  spread  all  your  wants  before  him  of  life  and  death, 
of  time  and  eternity  ;  and  to  request  and  obtain  the  needed  sup- 
plies from  his  hand.  He  is  present  to  hear  and  answer,  to  bless 
and  save,  you.  How  comforting  the  situation  !  how  bright  the 
prospects  !  how  divinely  glorious  the  hopes  !  A  reconcileable  God 
seated  upon  a  throne  of  mercy  to  receive  you,  as  penitent,  re- 
turning children  !  A  crucified  Saviour  calling  you  to  faith,  re- 
pentance and  holiness,  and  opening  the  "  everlasting  gates"  that 
you  "  may  enter  in  !"  Heaven  unfolding  its  light  and  glory  for 
your  enjoyment ;  and  all  her  divine  assembly  waiting  to  renew 
their  joy  over  your  arrival  in  their  delightful  mansions  ! 

Why  will  you  not  then  be  saved  ?  Consent ;  and  the  work  is 
done.  "  Hear  ye  the  word  of  the  Lord,  ye  that  tremble  at  his 
word  :  The  Lord,  your  God,  in  the  midst  of  you,  is  mighty  ;  he 
will  save,  he  will  rejoice  over  you  w^ith  joy.  He  will  rest  in  his 
love  ;  he  will  joy  over  you  with  singing.  He  will  gather  them, 
that  are  sorrowful,  for  the  solemn  assembly.  He  will  cleanse 
them  from  all  their  iniquity,  whereby  they  have  sinned  against 
him  ;  He  will  pardon  all  their  iniquities,  whereby  they  have  sin- 
ned, and  whereby  they  have  transgressed.  He  will  give  them 
one  heart,  and  one  way,  that  they  may  fear  him  forever.  Licline 
your  ear,  therefore,  and  hear,  and  your  souls  shall  live  :  and  He 
will  make  an  everlasting  covenant  with  you,  even  the  sure  mer- 
cies of  David.  He  will  give  you  beauty  for  ashes,  the  oil  of  joy 
for  mourning,  and  the  garment  of  praise  for  the  spirit  of  heavi- 
ness;  that  you  may  be  called  'Trees  of  righteousness,'  'The 
planting  of  the  Lord,'  that  he  may  be  glorified." 


396         THE  DISAPPOINTMENTS  WHICH  WILL  TAKE    [SER.  XXVI. 

3dly,  These  considerations  strongly  urge  us  to  entertain  very 
humble  apprehensions  of  our  own  character. 

There  is  no  passion  which  is  more  odious  than  pride  :  "  The 
Lord  hateth  a  proud  looli.  Every  one,  that  is  proud  in  heart, 
is  an  abomination  to  the  Lord."  There  is  no  passion  more  de- 
ceitful :  "  He,  that  trusteth  in  his  own  heart,  is  a  fool."  There 
is  no  passion  more  dangerous  :  "  Pride  goeth  before  destruction, 
and  a  haughty  spirit  before  a  fall."  There  is  no  passion,  which 
creeps  more  insensibly  into  the  mind ;  there  is  no  passion  mor« 
universal.  At  the  same  time,  no  passion  so  readily  finds  food 
every  where,  on  which  to  nourish  itself  We  are  proud  of  almost 
every  thing  within  us,  and  without  us,  with  which  we  have  any 
connection  ;  and  it  makes  little  difference  whether  it  be  an  endow- 
ment or  an  attainment,  an  attribute  or  an  accident.  We  are 
proud  even  of  our  native  moral  character  ;  fitted,  as  one  would 
think,  to  inspire  no  feelings,  but  those  of  humility.  Almost  all 
the  persons,  mentioned  in  the  former  part  of  this  discourse,  as 
experiencing  the  dreadful  disappointment  spoken  of  in  the  text, 
are  distinguished  for  the  species  of  pride  which  is  commonly  sty- 
led spiritual  pride.  No  persons  are  in  a  higher  degree  spiritually 
proud,  than  the  superstitious,  and  enthusiastic  :  the  one,  of  the 
superiority  which  he  derives  from  the  exactness  of  his  observan- 
ces ;  the  other,  of  the  favour  with  which  he  believes  himself  to 
be  regarded  by  his  Maker.  The  speculative  Christian  prides 
himself  in  his  knowledge  of  the  Scriptures,  and  the  ability  with 
which  he  converses  in  religious  subjects ;  the  zealot,  in  his  zeal 
for  God  ;  and  the  moralist  in  his  reputation  and  blameless  life. 
Self-righteousness  is  to  all  these  men,  a  primary  cause  of  their 
ruin.  "  Seest  thou  a  man  wise,"  that  is  righteous,  "  in  his  own 
conceit  ?  there  is  morehope  of  a  fool,"  that  is  of  a  wicked  man, 
^'  than  of  him."  The  reason  is  obvious.  The  man,  who  feels 
himself  to  be  a  sinner,  forms  no  expectations  of  being  saved  on 
account  of  his  present  character ;  but  feels,  of  course,  that  a 
new  and  better  one  must  be  attained,  before  he  can  hope  for  sal- 
vation. The  man,  who  is  religious  in  his  own  conceit,  will,  on 
the  contrary,  be  satisfied  with  his  present  character ;    and  feel- 


SER.  XXVI.]        PLACE  AT  THE  DAY  OF  JUDGMENT.  397 

ing  secure  of  the  favour  of  God,  will  seek  for  no  other  founda- 
tion of  hope.     The  danger  of  this  situation  I  need  not  explain. 

How  different  is  the  language  of  Scripture  concerning  the 
humble  :  "  Thus  saith  the  High  and  Lofty  One,  that  inhabiteth 
eternity,  '  I  dwell  in  the  high  and  holy  place  ;  yet  to  this  man  will 
I  look ;  even  to  him,  who  is  of  a  humble  and  contrite  spirit ;  to 
revive  the  spirit  of  the  humble,  and  to  revive  the  spirit  of  the 
contrite/  "  '^  God,"  saith  St.  James,  "  resisteth  the  proud,  but 
giveth  grace  to  the  humble/'  "  Before  honour,"  saith  Solomon, 
"is  humility."     "  By  humility  are  riches,  honour,  and  life." 

But  the  point,  on  which  I  would,  here,  especially  insist,  at  the 
present  time,  is  the  dangerous  nature  of  spiritual  pride,  and  the 
absolute  necessity  of  a  humble  spirit  to  our  safety.  It  is  impossi- 
ble for  God  to  accept  him,  who  comes  into  his  presence  with  the 
declaration  :  "  God,  I  thank  thee,  that  I  am  not  as  other  men, 
extortioners,  unjust,  adulterers,  or  even  as  this  Publican  :  I  fast 
twice  a  week  ;  I  give  tithes  of  all  that  I  possess."  The  first  step 
towards  acceptance  into  the  favour  of  this  glorious  and  awful 
Being,  is,  to  assume  the  spirit  of  the  Publican ;  a  spirit,  prompt- 
ing us  to  stand  afar  off;  regarding  it  as  presumption  to  lift  up 
even  our  eyes  unto  heaven;  disposing  us  to  smite  upon  our  breasts, 
and  to  say,  "  God  be  merciful  to  us  sinners." 

How  preposterous  is  it  for  a  being,  born  yesterday  of  the  same 
dust  with  the  worms,  and  destined  soon  to  become  their  prey,  and 
return  again  to  the  same  dust,  to  be  proud  !  How  impious  is  it 
for  a  sinner  to  present  this  lofty  character  in  the  presence  of  God  ! 
How  dangerous,  to  add  this  sin  to  all  his  other  guilt ;  a  sin,  exist- 
ing every  moment,  and  always  increasing ;  a  sin  which  disturbed 
the  peace  of  heaven,  and  ruined  this  world  !  It  is  impossible 
for  the  man  of  spiritual  pride  to  know  his  character,  or  perceive 
his  danger,  until  he  assumes  a  new  disposition.  He  has  "  eyes, 
which  see  not ;  and  ears,  which  hear  not ;  and  a  heart,  which 
cannot  understand  ;"  and,  should  he  continue  to  exercise  the 
same  spirit,  he  will  never  be  converted,  nor  healed. 

4thly.  These  considerations  powerfully  compel  us  to  exercise 
charitable  thoughts  towards  others. 

Vol.  H.  51 


398  THE  DISAPPOINTMENTS  WHICH  WILL  TAKE     [SER.  XXVI. 

When  we  are  indulging  pride,  and  self-righteousne?s ;  when 
wfi  are  exahing  ourselves,  and  regarding  and  treating  others  as 
objects  of  scorn,  derision,  and  hatred  ;  when  we  are  branding 
them  as  heretics,  and  reprobates ;  when  we  are  looking  down  on 
them  as  the  dirt  and  scum  of  the  universe ;  how  profitable  might 
be  the  remembrance,  that  these  very  men  may  hereafter  "  sit 
down  in  the  kingdom  of  God,  and  we  ourselves  be  thrust  out ! 
Who  are  we,  that,  thus  intruding  into  the  seat  of  judgment, 
"condemn  another  man's  servant?"  and  forget,  that  "to  his  own 
master  he  standeth,  or  falleth  ?"  We  are  those,  who  are  our- 
selves to  be  judged  ;  whose  cause  is  yet  to  be  tried  ;  whose  char- 
acter is  yet  to  be  settled  ;  and  whose  reward  is  yet  to  be  meas- 
ured out.  If  they  are  Christians,  our  contempt  and  hatred  of 
them,  so  long  as  they  are  indulged,  will  of  course  prevent  us 
from  becoming  like  them  :  i(  we  are,  they  will  prevent  them  from 
becoming  like  us. 

There  is  perhaps  no  folly,  and  no  sin,  to  which  we  are  more 
prone,  than  to  this.  Nor  is  there  any,  to  the  existence,  and  ope- 
rations of  which  we  are  more  blind.  It  is  always  pleasant  to  pre- 
fer ourselves  to  others.  That  the  preference  is  just,  the  pride., 
which  creates  it,  does  not  permit  us  to  entertain  a  doubt.  The 
judgment  is  formed  of  course,  and  admitted  with  pleasure ;  and 
there  is  none  to  call  it  in  question.  Yet  all  men,  though  blind  to 
this  folly  and  sin  in  themselves,  discern  intuitively,  that  the  decis- 
ion, in  most  instances,  is  false  ;  although  in  his  own  cause,  each 
is  sure  that  it  is  true. 

The  cause  of  this  unreasonable  and  unhappy  conduct  lies  not 
in  the  understanding,  but  in  the  heart.  To  the  heart,  therefore, 
must  the  remedy  be  applied,  if  we  would  hope  for  a  cure.  Should 
each  one  of  us  solemnly  realize,  that  the  very  man  whom  he  con- 
temns and  derides,  may  not  improbably  be  admitted,  with  aii 
open  entrance,  into  the  kingdom  of  God,  and  he  himself  be  shuj 
out  forever ;  that  the  object  of  his  scorn  will,  at  the  final  day,  be 
raised  to  immortal  glory  and  immortal  joy,  and  himself  be  driv- 
en, with  supreme  disgrace  and  woe,  from  the  presence  of  his 
Judge ;  it  would  seem,  that  he  could  hardly  fail  to  contract  his 


SER.  XXVI.]        PLACE  AT  THE  DAY  OF  JUDGMENT.  399 

pride,  lay  his  hand  upon  his  mouth,  and  his  mouth  in  the  dust, 
and  take  his  only  safe  and  proper  station,  at  the  foot  of  the  cross. 
Here  he  would  make  it  his  business  to  pray  for  others,  and  to 
judge  himself. 

This  consideration  may  be  eminently  useful  to  Christians. 
Even  they,  it  is  not  to  be  denied  nor  concealed,  measuring  them- 
selves by  themselves,  and  comparing  themselves  among  themselves^ 
me  not  always  wise.  Perhaps  there  is  scarcely  a  precept,  which 
respects  our  fellow-men,  which  Christians,  ordinarily,  find  it  more 
difficult  to  obey,  than  that,  which  requires  us  to  esteem  others  bet- 
ter titan  ourselves.  The  precept,  however,  is  in  itself  divinely 
wise ;  and  was  never  obeyed  without  the  most  solid  advantage. 
At  the  same  time,  its  foundation  is  laid  deep  in  facts.  Every  ■ 
Christian,  if  not  grossly  unfaithful  to  himself,  knows,  incompara- 
bly better,  his  own  unworthiness,  than  that  of  others.  Hence  he 
is  furnished  with  complete  proof,  and  proof  which  exists  in  no 
other  case,  that  his  own  station  ought,  if  he  is  rewarded  accord- 
ing to  his  works,  to  be  very  low.  Surely  this  consideration  is 
more  than  enough  to  balance  all  those  defects,  whether  real  or 
imaginary,  on  the  ground  of  which  he  forms  uncharitable  opin- 
ions of  others ;  censures  them  with  severity  ;  and  perhaps  denies 
them  a  place  in  the  favour  of  God.  Surely  his  own  sins  will 
weigh  more  in  the  scale,  which  should  determine  the  moral  char- 
acter, than  the  trifling  peculiarities  of  the  sect,  class,  or  church, 
to  which  others  may  belong ;  or  any  differences  in  religious  doc- 
trine, which  are  not  absolutely  essential,  or  which  do  not  involve 
in  themselves  plain  and  gross  criminality.  How  many  persons, 
of  whom  we  have  thought  hardly,  will  make  a  brighter  and  bet- 
ter appearance  than  ourselves,  at  the  great  day  ! 

Boerhaave,  a  man  who  rendered  himself  immortal  by  his  tal- 
ents and  labours,  and  who,  there  is  the  best  reason  to  believe, 
has  become  immortal  in  a  far  higher  sense  by  his  beneficence  and 
piety,  is  reported  to  have  said,  when  present  at  the  execution  of 
a  criminal,  "  Perhaps  that  poor  guilty  wretch  is,  in  the  sight  of 
God,  less  guilty  than  I  am."  How  few  persons,  have  we  reason 
to  believe,  entertain  such  just  views  of  the  guilt  of  sin,  and  the 


400  THE  DISAPPOINTMENTS,  &c.  [SER.  XXVI. 

heinousness  of  their  own  sins,  as  this  great  and  good  man  !  By 
thus  humbling  himself^  how  highly  is  he  exalted  in  the  view  of 
every  person  present.  How  greatly  would  pride  and  self-right- 
eousness have  lowered  him  in  our  estimation  ?  How  exact  a 
counterpart  is  he  of  that  fust  of  all  men,  that  greatest  of  the 
Apostles,  who,  after  being  endued  with  wonderful  inspiration,  af- 
ter being  caught  up  to  the  third  heaven,  after  having  converted 
half  the  known  world,  could  say,  "  Unto  me,  who  am  the  least  of 
all  saints,  is  this  grace  given,  that  I  should  preach  among  the 
Gentiles  the  unsearchable  riches  of  Christ." 

Imitate,  then,  I  beseech  you,  these  glorious  examples.  Make 
it  your  business,  not  to  applaud,  but  to  know,  not  to  flatter,  but 
to  amend,  yourselves.  Open  your  eyes  daily  on  your  errors,  and 
your  sins  ;  and  labour  earnestly,  not  to  justify,  but  to  renounce 
them.  Remember  always,  that  God  will  hereafter  judge  both 
you,  and  your  fellow-men  ;  and  that  "  his  judgment"  will  be  "  ac- 
cording to  truth."  Ask  yourselves,  day  by  day,  how  you  will  ap- 
pear in  his  eye,  and  what  sentence  he  will  pronounce  upon  your 
conduct  in  this  life  ;  and  remember,  that  you  cannot  obtain  his 
favour,  nor  be  received  into  his  kingdom,  unless  you  essentially 
resemble  that  glorious  Redeemer,  who,  although  "  the  brightness 
of  the  Father's  glory,  and  the  express  image  of  his  person,"  has 
declared  his  own  character  in  these  remarkable  words,  "  I  am 
meek,  and  lowly  of  heart." 


8ERMON  XXVII. 

THE  HARVEST  PAST. 

'Jeremiah  viii.  20. 

The  harvest  is  past,  the  summer  is  ended  ;  and  we  are  not  saved. 

To  understand  the  import  of  these  words,  it  will  be  useful  to 
consider  the  state  of  the  people,  in  whose  name  they  were  utter- 
ed by  the  prophet.  The  Jews  were  at  this  period,  on  the  eve  of 
destruction.  Their  temporal  prosperity  was,  from  the  first,  sus- 
pended on  their  obedience  to  God.  Secular  good  was  more  fre- 
quently promised,  as  a  reward  to  their  obedience,  than  that 
which  is  eternal ;  and  secular  evil  more  frequently  threatened,  as 
a  penalty  for  their  disobedience.  Every  corrupted  nation  may 
be  justly  considered,  as  hastening  to  its  fall  in  the  natural  pro- 
gress of  things.  But  the  nation  of  the  Jews,  of  which  God  was 
the  Sovereign,  was  taught  to  expect  this  fall  as  an  immediate 
judgment  from  heaven  ;  as  the  punishment  denounced  against  re- 
bellion in  the  constitution  of  their  government.  Their  sins  were 
known,  overt  acts  of  treason  against  their  Supreme  Ruler  ;  and 
as  such,  were  to  be  punished  with  peculiar  severity. 

A  short  time  previous  to  the  period  when  the  text  was  written, 
Josiah  was  on  the  throne  of  Judah.  The  reformation,  begun  by 
him,  was  the  last  before  the  final  ruin  of  the  kingdom.  At  this 
time,  the  prophet  clearly  saw  every  hope  drawing  fast  to  a  close. 
They  had  been  intreated,  warned,  and  threatened,  by  every 
prophet  from  Moses  to  Jeremiah.  But  all,  as  the  great  founder 
of  their  Empire  had  predicted,  was  in  vain. 

Infidelity  and  irreligion  had  taken  entire  possession  of  the  na- 
tion.    Their  kings,  their  nobles,  their  priests  and  their  citizens, 


402  THE  HARVEST  PAST.  [SER.  XXVII. 

with  one  universal  declension,  had  finally  turned  their  backs  on 
Jehovah  ;  and  yielded  themselves  up  to  the  abominations  of  the 
heathen.  Truth,  justice,  and  benevolence,  had  fallen  in  the 
streets;  and  falsehood,  injustice,  and  cruelty,  rioted  without  con- 
trol. The  gold  was  become  dim,  and  the  most  fine  gold  chang- 
ed into  dross. 

The  government  itself,  as  in  every  case  of  this  nature,  was  un- 
hinged. The  King*  had  become  a  mere  cipher ;  and  was  afraid 
to  do  a  plain  act  of  justice  to  the  prophet  Jeremiah,  or  even  to 
have  it  known  that  he  had  consented  to  receive  a  message  from 
God.  a  sensual  and  brutal  nobility  had  weakened  every  social 
bond  ;  and  the  people,  encouraged  by  their  example  and  actua- 
ted by  their  influence,  had  reached  the  verge  of  anarchy,  and  of 
all  the  evils  which  that  last  curse  of  mankind  so  plentifully  pro- 
duces. Accordingly,  they  were  finally  rejected  by  God,  and 
given  over  to  cursing. 

What  a  melancholy  prospect  is  here  presented  to  our  view  !  A 
nation  fast  declining,  through  its  sins,  from  the  summit  of  human 
virtue  and  glory,  into  the  depths  of  corruption,  disgrace  and  ruin  : 
without  friends  abroad  ;  without  harmony  at  home  :  their  enjoy- 
ments vanishing,  their  hopes  setting  in  darkness :  peace  and 
prosperity  offered  to  them  a  thousand  times  ;  urged  upon  them 
by  God  with  the  most  affectionate  solicitude,  on  the  most  desi- 
rable of  all  conditions,  tliut  of  returning  to  their  duty  ;  but  des- 
pised, rejected,  and  lost  forever.  The  very  time  allotted  for  their 
reformation,  the  day  of  grace  and  hope,  now  hiding  behind  the 
mountains  ;  and  leaving  the  world  to  a  long  night  of  misery  and 
despair. 

Th?y  and  their  children,  destined  to  captivity  and  to  the  sword, 
were  still  gay,  sensual,  impure,  avaricious,  false,  fraudulent,  cruel 
and  impious.  Not  a  symptom  of  reformation  appeared,  to  glad- 
den the  anxious  eye  with  a  hope  of  recovery.  The  political  body 
was  infected  with  the  plague ;  and  was  fast  changing  into  a 
mass  of  putrefaction  and  death.     They  had  been  often  reproved, 

*  Jeremiah  xxxvtii. 


SER.  XXVII.j  THE  HARVEST  PAST.  403 

but  had  steadily  hardened  their  necks ;  and  were  now  to  be  sud- 
denly destroyed,  and  that  without  remedy. 

All  these  were  immortal  beings.  Of  course  their  ruin  reached 
beyond  the  grave.  Their  present  destruction  was  only  the  begin- 
ning of  another,  which  was  to  endure  throughout  eternity. 

In  what  circumstances  could  the  prophet,  with  more  proprie- 
ty, have  taken  up  the  affecting  lamentation  in  the  text,  "  The 
harvest  is  past,  the  summer  is  ended  ;  and  we  are  not  saved  V 
The  time  of  harvest  in  Judea  was  the  time,  when  the  inhabitants 
and  the  nations,  by  which  that  country  was  surrounded,  usually 
went  out  to  war.  At  this  time  their  faithless  allies  the  Egyptians, 
in  whose  aid  they  chose  to  trust  rather  than  in  that  of  God,  and 
who  almost  of  course  deceived  their  fond  hopes  of  succour,  were 
expected  to  bring  them  assistance  against  the  king  of  Babylon. 
But  the  harvest  came  ;  and  no  Egyptian  friends  appeared.  The 
summer  also  was  ended;  but  these  auxiliaries  never  came.  This 
last  hope  therefore  vanished,  and  left  the  wretched  expectants  in 
the  gloom  of  despair. 

There  are,  my  brethren,  many  situations  in  the  life  of  man,  to 
w^hich  this  lamentation  maybe  applied  with  the  utmost  propriety 
and  force.  Wherever  great  blessing  have  been  enjoyed  and  abu- 
sed, or  hopes  have  been  cherished  and  lost ;  where  God  has  been 
long  indulgent,  and  has  finally  withdrawn  ;  all  those,  who  are  es- 
pecially concerned,  may  very  properly  adopt  this  afflicting  excla- 
mation. These,  however,  are  not  the  only  situations  to  which  it 
is  applicable.  Nor  can  the  consideration,  which  it  expresses  with 
so  much  energy,  be  of  any  use  to  the  persons  here  intended.  A 
state  of  absolute  despair,  a  state  of  remediless  ruin,  admits  of 
no  alleviation.  Those,  who  look  on,  may  indeed  derive  from  a 
subject  so  awful  and  distressing  lessons  of  the  greatest  utility. 
The  warning  may  arouse  the  ear  of  sloth,  and  sound  an  alarm  to 
the  heart  of  stupidity  ;  where  all  considerations  of  inferiour  mag- 
nitude would  be  unheeded  and  lost. 

But  there  are  circumstances,  in  which  the  mind  of  man  is  of- 
ten placed,  of  such  a  nature  as  to  invite  this  solemn  reflection  ; 
and  to  render  it  hopefully  and  highly  profitable  to  the  man  him- 


404  THE  HARVEST  PAST.  [SER.  XXVII 

self.  When  our  own  case  has  become  seriously  alarming  ;  when 
we  have  enjoyed  many  and  great  privileges,  without  any  profit  to 
ourselves ;  when  the  mercies  of  God  have  hitherto  been  lost  up- 
on us,  and  we  have  taken  occasion  from  them  only  to  harden 
ourselves  in  sin  and  security ;  a  just  sense  of  the  import  of  this 
text  would  not  improbably  awaken  the  most  useful  emotions  in 
our  hearts,  and  produce  the  happiest  effects  on  our  conduct. 

Among  the  cases,  to  which  the  words  of  the  text  may  be  prop- 
erly applied  by  mankind,  I  shall  select  the  following. 

1st.  Every  person  who  still  remabis  in  sin,  7nay,  at  the  close  of 
a  year,  usefully  adopt  this  lamentation. 

Every  year  removes  every  sinner  further  from  eternal  life. 
Mankind  are  never  stationary  in  their  moral  condition,  any  more 
than  in  their  being.  He,  who  does  not  advance,  always  recedes. 
He,  who  does  not  become  better,  of  course  becomes  worse. 

Nor  is  this  all.  The  declension  is  more  rapid  than  we  ever 
imagine.  Blindness,  as  you  well  know,  is  a  common  name  for 
sin  in  the  Scriptures ;  and  is  strongly  descriptive  of  one  impor- 
tant part  of  its  nature.  Nor  is  it  blindness  to  divine  things  only, 
to  God  and  Christ,  to  its  duty  and  to  its  salvation  ;  but  it  is  also 
blindness  with  respect  to  itself  The  mind  knows  not,  that  itself 
is  thus  blind ;  and  asks  triumphantly  with  the  Pharisees  of  old, 
"  am  I  blind  also  ?"  In  its  own  view  no  one  is  possessed  of  eyes 
equally  good  and  discerning ;  and  it  usually  pities  all  who  differ 
from  it,  as  unable  to  see.  No  deception  is  so  flattering  and  in- 
curable as  this.  The  views  of  such  a  mind  concerning  itself  are 
false ;  and  of  course  are  more  supporting  and  encouraging  than 
truth  would  warrant.  The  soul  of  the  unawakened  sinner  is  in- 
variably more  sinful,  and  his  life  more  deformed,  than  either  ap- 
pears to  be  in  his  own  eyes.  Yet,  with  a  most  unhappy  self-de- 
eeption,  he  confides  in  his  own  decisions  wholly  ;  and  on  those 
of  others,  of  the  Bible,  and  of  God,  he  places  no  reliance. 

Hence  his  state  is  in  every  respect  more  dangerous,  than  he 
does  or  will  believe  ;  and  his  declension  more  rapid,  than  with 
these  views  he  can  possibly  iniagino.  This  is  true  of  every  year 
of  his  life.     Of  consequence,  the  ]oss  of  a  year  is  a  greater  loss 


SER.  XXVII.]  THE  HARVEST  PAST.  405 

than  he  can  be  induced  even  to  suspect.  Few  sinners  reflect  on 
their  moral  condition,  to  any  such  extent,  and  with  any  such  so- 
lemnity ;  as  the  suspended  state  of  an  immortal  mind,  and  the 
evident  danger  of  endless  ruin,  plainly  and  vehemently  demand. 
Usually  they  conclude,  that  their  situation  is  at  the  worst  atten- 
ded with  no  uncommon  danger ;  that  if  one,  or  two,  or  twenty, 
or  fifty,  years  are  gone  and  lost,  years  enough  remain  to  secure 
their  salvation  and  begin  their  repentance,  when  other  pressing 
concerns  of  business  or  of  pleasure  shall  be  finished.  "  It  is  a 
hard  case,"  will  every  sinner  say,  "  since  seventy  years  are  the 
destined  date  of  human  life,  and  twenty  of  them  still  remain,  if 
a  work,  which  demands  so  little  time  for  its  accomplishment,  can- 
not be  performed  within  that  period.  I  may  therefore  sit  down 
to  eat  and  drink,  and  rise  up  to  play  ;  and  yet  have  abundant 
opportunity  to  renounce  my  sins  and  turn  to  God." 

But  a  sinner  ought  to  remember  at  the  close  of  a  year,  that  he 
has  lost  that  period  ;  and  not  only  lost  it,  but  converted  it  into 
the  means  of  sin  and  ruin  ;  that  he  is  more  sinful,  more  guilty, 
and  more  odious  to  God,  than  at  the  beginning;  that  all  the  diffi- 
culties, which  lie  between  him  and  salvation,  are  increased  be- 
yond his  imagination ;  that  his  mass  of  guilt  and  the  reasons 
of  his  condemnation  are  mightily  enhanced,  his-  evil  habits 
strengthened,  and  his  hopes  of  returning  lessened  far  more  than 
he  is  aware  ;  that  that  year  was  added  to  those  which  he  had  lost 
for  the  very  purpose  of  engaging  him  to  seek  eternal  life  ;  that 
Gon,  who  waited  every  day  which  it  contained  to  be  gracious  to 
him  has  seen  him  employ  every  one  of  these  days  in  wickedness 
only  ;  and  that,  instead  of  living  many  years  to  come,  he  may 
within  a  few  days  be  lodged  in  the  grave,  summoned  to  the  judg- 
ment, and  sentenced  to  that  endless  death  which  he  has  hitherto 
laboured  uniformly  to  deserve. 

He  ought  also  to  cast  his  eyes  around  him,  and  see  that  all. 
or  almost  all,  others  who  have  like  himself  trusted  to  a  future  re- 
pentance, have  from  year  to  year  become  more  hardened  in  sin 
by  these  very  means  ;  have  thought  less  and  less  of  turning  back, 
and  taking  hold  of  the  paths  of  life ;  and  although  whitened  with 

Vol.  II.  5'2 


406  THE  HARVEST  PAST.  [SER.  XXVII. 

the  locks  of  age  and  tottering  over  the  grave,  are,  with  an  assi- 
duity and  eagerness  not  less  than  his  own,  indulging  "  the  lust  of 
the  flesh,  the  lust  of  the  eyes,  and  the  pride  of  hfe  ;"  as  if  assured 
by  a  messenger  from  the  invisible  world  that  there  is  no  God,  no 
heaven,  and  no  hell.  Such  as  they  are,  will  he  be.  Their 
thoughts,  their  conclusions,  their  conduct  have  been  the  same  : 
their  end  therefore  will  be  his.  How  properly  then  may  he  ex- 
claim at  the  end  of  a  year  designed  for  his  salvation,  but  spent  in 
accomplishing  his  ruin,  "  The  harvest  is  past,  the  summer  is  en- 
ded ;  but  I  am  not  saved  !" 

To  bring  the  subject  home  to  this  Assembly,^  and  to  pre- 
vent, so  far  as  may  be,  each  individual  from  hearing  for  his  neigh- 
bour and  not  for  himself;  let  me  address  it  directly  to  his  con- 
science. 

God,  my  Friends  and  Brethren,  has  with  infinite  patience  and 
mercy  prolonged  your  lives  another  year ;  and,  in  spite  of  all 
your  sins,  has  renewed  his  blessings  to  you  every  morning,  and 
returned  them  every  moment.  You  are  alive ;  have  been  fed 
and  clothed  by  his  bounty  ;  have  been  preserved  from  every  fa- 
tal evil,  and  furnished  with  an  abundance  of  earthly  good.  You 
are  still  made  probationers  for  an  endless  life.  The  gate  of  sal- 
vation is  still  open.  The  voice  of  the  Redeemer  is  still  heard  : 
"Come  unto  me  all  ye  that  labour,  and  are  heavy  laden  ;  and  I 
will  give  you  rest."  The  Sabbath  still  smiles  with  peace  and 
hope.  The  sanctuary  still  resounds  with  praise  ;  and  invites  you 
to  seek  and  ask,  to  find  and  to  receive.  The  sceptre  of  forgive- 
ness  is  still  held  out  for  you,  to  touch  and  live. 

In  what  manner  have  you  lived,  in  the  midst  of  these  blessings  ? 

Have  you  solemnly,  often,  and  effectually,  thought  on  the  great 
subject  of  Religion?  Have  you  felt  that  your  souls  were  immor- 
tal ;  that  they  must  be  either  saved  or  lost ;  that  they  are  sinful, 
and  of  course  condemned  and  ruined,  unless  you  return  with  re- 
pentance towards  God  and  faith  towards  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  ? 

Have  you  under  these  affecting  apprehensions  entered  your 
closets,  bowed  your  knees  before  God,  and  asked  him  to  have 
mercy  on  you  1    Have  you  assembled  your  families  with  all  hu 


SER.  XXVII]  THE  HARVEST  PAST.  407 

mility  of  mind ;  and,  with  strong  crying  and  many  tears,  besought 
God  to  sanctify  and  save  them,  also  ?  Have  you  faithfully  come 
up  to  the  house  of  the  Lord  ?  Have  you  wantonly  lost  no  sab- 
bath during  the  past  year  ?  How  many  half  days  have  you  given 
to  pleasure,  sleep,  or  business  ;  when  God  came  down  to  meet 
you  in  his  house,  and  to  bless  you  ?  When  you  were  here,  what 
conduct  has  the  All-seeing  eye  of  God  beheld  you  adopt  ?  Have 
you  united  with  all  the  heart,  in  the  prayers  and  praises  of  this 
holy  place  ?  Have  you  taken  heed  how  you  heard  the  words  of 
eternal  life  ?  Have  you  remembered,  pondered,  and  resolved  to 
obey,  what  you  heard  '(     Have  you  thus  obeyed? 

Have  you  delighted  in  the  law  of  God  after  the  inner  man  ? 
Have  you  rejoiced  in  the  glorious  promises  of  the  Gospel  ?  Have 
you  searched  the  Scriptures  to  find  them  ?  Are  you  better  than 
you  were  when  the  year  began  ?  Are  you  more  friendly  to 
Christ ;  more  dutiful  to  God  ;  more  hopeful  of  salvation  ?  Are 
you  nearer  to  heaven,  or  nearer  to  hell  ?  To  what  good  purpose 
have  you  lived  ?  Is  not  the  harvest  in  one  important  sense  past 
to  you  ? 

2dly.  A  season  in  which  Religion  prevails  is  also  eminently  a 
time  of  harvest ;  and  such,  as  lose  this  season,  may  well  adopt 
icith  regard  to  themselves  the  lamentation  of  the  text. 

In  one  place,  and  at  one  time,  and  another,  Religion  seizes 
strongly  the  minds  of  men ;  and  becomes,  in  some  measure  as  it 
ought,  the  supreme  concern.  In  such  seasons,  more  persons 
have  within  a  short  period  become  the  subjects  of  piety  and  the 
heirs  of  heaven,  so  far  as  the  human  eye  can  judge,  than  at  other 
times  in  many  years.  The  Spirit  of  Grace  descends  then,  as  the 
showers  on  the  mown  grass  ;  renews  the  face  of  the  earth  ;  and 
produces  a  living  verdure,  where  before  there  was  nothing  but 
barrenness  and  death.  Men,  at  such  seasons,  literally  fly  as 
clouds,  and  as  doves  to  their  windows.  The  wilderness  blossoms 
as  the  rose  ;  and  the  desert  is  the  garden  of  God. 

At  these  periods  all  things  conspire,  to  persuade  men  to  turn 
lo  God,  God  is  then  seen  and  known  to  be  pecuUarly  gracious  ; 
and  draws  near  to  sinners  with  infinite  tenderness  and  compas- 


---d 


408  THE  HARVEST  PAST.  [i>E.R.  XXV U. 

sion.  The  fields  are  ripe ;  the  labourers  are  busy  and  success- 
ful ;  the  sun  smiles  upon  their  industry  ;  and  a  plentiful  harvest 
is  reaped  and  gathered.  The  force  of  example,  the  strong  pow- 
er of  sympathy,  the  daily  sight  and  hearing  of  Religion,  and  its 
attendant  circumstances  ;  conspire  with  the  ordmary  means  of 
grace  to  affect  the  soul,  and  force  it  to  become  solemn,  serious, 
and  in  the  end  religious.  A  great  variety  of  hindrances  are  then 
also  removed.  The  common  temptations  of  the  world  are  in  a 
great  measure  suspended.  Fashion,  ridicule,  coldness,  and  evil 
example,  lose  their  wretched  hold  on  the  mind  ;  and  a  vacancy 
is  left  for  candour,  truth,  and  God. 

But  these  seasons  have  their  close  ;  and  some  persons,  at  least, 
retain  in  the  midst  of  them  their  former  hardness  of  heart,  m- 
creased  by  the  resistance  which  they  have  so  lately  made  to  the 
offers  of  mercy.  While  others  have  crowded  around  the  pool  of 
healing,  they  have  stood  secure  on  the  brink :  and  have  employ- 
ed themselves  in  watching  their  companions,  in  laughing  at  their 
eagerness  and  anxiety,  in  wondering  that  their  credulity  can  per- 
suade them  to  expect  a  cure  :  or  have  perhaps  been  curiously 
philosophizing  on  the  nature  of  the  waters,  and  in  determinmg 
that  the  remedy  is  the  result  of  natural  causes  and  not  supernat- 
ural ;  of  the  peculiar  quality  of  the  waters  themselves,  and  not 
of  any  virtue  infused  by  the  Angel  of  health. 

Of  such  persons,  although  usually  very  sagacious  in  their  own 
opinion,  it  may  be  said  that  they  have  eyes,  but  they  see  not ; 
ears,  but  they  hear  not ;  and  hearts  have  they,  but  they  do  not 
understand  :  for  their  heart  is  waxed  gross,  their  ears  are  dull  of 
hearing,  and  their  eyes  have  they  closed ;  lest  they  should  see, 
and  hear,  and  understand,  and  be  converted  and  healed.  If 
there  be  any  persons  in  this  Assembly  to  whom  these  observa- 
tions are  applicable,  let  me  intreai  them,  since  they  put  from 
themselves  the  Word  of  God,  and  judge  themselves  unworthy  of 
everlasting  life,  to  remember  the  solemn  address  made  to  such 
as  they  are  by  St.  Paul  from  the  prophet  Habakkuk :  "  Behold 
ye  despisers,  and  wonder  and  perish  ;  for  I  work  a  work  in  your 
days,  a  work  which  ye  shall  in  no  wise  beiievcj  though  a  man  de- 
clare it  unto  you." 


SER.  XXVII.]  THE  HARVEST  PAST.  409 

At  these  seasons  a  man  resists  uncommon  and  most  happy 
means  of  grace ;  provokes  God  in  a  peculiar  manner ;  and  har- 
dens his  own  heart  to  a  degree  and  with  a  rapidity,  which  ought 
to  fill  him  with  alarm  and  terror.  How  few  persons  have  ordi- 
narily beheld  such  an  accepted  time  repeated,  in  their  own  neigh- 
bourhood !  With  hearts  so  hard  as  then  to  remain  impenitent, 
what  hope  can  they  safely  indulge  that  common  seasons  will  suf- 
fice to  bring  them  to  repentance  ?  They  were  then  stupid,  and 
asleep,  and  "  dead  in  trespasses  and  sins."  When  will  they 
awake  and  live  ?  What  reason  have  they  to  fear,  that  the  harvest 
with  respect  to  them  is  past,  and  the  summer  ended,  while  their 
salvation  is  not  secured  ! 

3dly.  Another  situation,  to  which  this  melancholy  reflection  is 
peculiarly  applicable,  is  that  of  a  dying  sinner. 

Human  life  is  one  continued  scene  of  delusion.  Present  ob- 
jects demand  all  our  attention,  and  all  our  care.  To  them  alone 
we  attach  importance  ;  and  that,  an  importance  far  beyond  what 
their  value  will  warrant.  They  engage,  they  engross  our  labours, 
our  anxiety,  our  hopes,  our  fears,  our  joys,  and  our  sorrows.  In 
the  language  of  most  men,  worldly  success  is  the  only  meaning 
of  prosperity.  To  be  rich,  to  be  splendid,  to  be  great,  to  be  hon- 
ourable, to  be  luxurious,  and  to  fill  the  wishes  of  sensuality  ;  are 
the  only  objects  coveted  by  most  men,  the  only  happiness  known. 

One  is  often  tempted  amid  the  eager  round  of  worldly  bustle 
to  conclude,  that  no  passage  of  Scripture  is  regarded  by  such 
men,  except  that  proverbial  expression  of  brutishness :  "Let  us 
eat  and  drink  ;  for  to-morrow  we  die."  By  such  men  the  health 
and  well  being  of  the  soul  are  contemned  and  forgotten ;  and 
the  soul  itself  is  scarcely  remembered,  amid  the  vehement  pur- 
suit of  wealth,  honour,  and  pleasure.  But  do  these  things,  my 
brethren,  accord  with  truth  and  wisdom  ?  Place  these  objects  in 
some  distant  period  of  eternity ;  and  say,  in  what  manner  you 
would  regard  them.  Would  you,  to  obtain  a  reversion  of  them 
all,  rise  before  the  sun,  and  toil  when  the  evening  has  spread  her 
curtains  ?  Would  you  watch  and  strive,  with  anxiety  and  agony  ; 
tremble  at  the  approach  of  disappointment ;  and,  proclaiming 


410  THE  HARVEST  PAST.  [SER.  XXVH. 

that  your  whole  happiness  is  centred  in  this  world,  declare  at 
the  loss  of  money,  fame,  power  or  pleasure,  that  you  are  ruined. 

The  blessings  of  this  world  are  means  of  life,  support,  and 
comfort  to  man,  while  he  is  here ;  and  they  are  also  means  of 
enabling  him  to  do  good  to  his  fellow  men,  and  in  this  way  to 
benefit  his  own  soul.  In  this  view  I  acknowledge  their  value. 
For  what  else  can  they  be  valuable  ?  They  are  means,  not  ends. 
As  means,  they  are  useful  :  as  ends,  they  are  dross  and  dirt. 
Had  they  any  other  value,  were  they  in  themselves  good  ;  they 
would  ^fe  valuable  through  eternity,  and  desirable  even  in  heaven. 

Suppose  one  worldhng  then,  a  votary  of  pleasure,  were  to  in- 
dulge and  increase  in  sensuality  throughout  endless  ages ;  and 
with  a  constant  progress  to  become  more  slothful,  more  lewd, 
and  more  intemperate,  forever.  Suppose  another  worldling  to 
become  more  and  more  avaricious,  and  with  unremitted  eager- 
ness to  heap  up  riches  through  eternity  ;  to  raise  the  pile  to  the 
size  of  mountains  ;  and  convert  at  length  worlds  and  systems  into 
gold.  Suppose  a  third  were  to  increase  his  pride  and  ambition, 
throughout  the  same  infinite  duration ;  and  to  be  daily  more 
haughty,  more  envious  towards  rivals,  more  impatient  of  control, 
more  dissatisfied  with  his  own  honours,  offices,  and  fame ;  and 
after  he  has  subdued  and  ruled  one  world,  and  wept  until  he  had 
found  and  subdued  another,  finally  to  say  in  his  heart,  "  I  will  as- 
cend into  heaven  ;  I  will  exalt  my  throne  above  the  stars  of  God  ; 
I  will  ascend  above  the  heights  of  the  clouds ;  I  will  be  like  the 
Most  High." 

Would  either  of  these  persons  in  your  view  have  found  the 
road  to  real  good  ?  Could  you  covet  the  employment,  the  life, 
the  character,  the  allotment  ?  Yet,  if  these  things  have  an  inhe- 
rent value,  they  will  be  valuable  forever  :  and,  the  more  of  them 
we  possess,  the  more  respectable  and  the  more  happy  should  we 
be  justly  esteemed. 

Future  things,  on  the  contrary,  have  far  less  value  in  our  eyes 
than  they  really  possess  ;  especially  eternal  things.  We  think 
them  distant,  but  they  are  near ;  we  think  them  uncertain,  but 
ihey  are  sure  ;  we  think  them  trifles  unconnected  with  our  hap- 


»ER.  XXVII.]  THE  HARVEST  PAST.  411 

piness ;  whereas  they  are  things  of  infinite  moment  and  of  infi- 
nite concern  to  us. 

This  delusion  not  uncommonly  travels  with  us  through  life  ; 
sometimes  probably  enters  with  us  into  the  grave  ;  and  is  scarce- 
ly shaken  off,  when  we  appear  before  the  bar  of  God.  Its  influ- 
ence is  also  universal,  and  extends  to  our  thoughts,  affections, 
and  purposes  alike,  and  to  the  objects  with  which  they  are  con- 
versant. 

On  a  dying  bed,  however,  it  often  vanishes :  and  if  sickness 
and  patience  leave  us  in  the  possession  of  our  reason,  juster 
views  prevail  with  respect  both  to  things  present  and  things  fu- 
ture, things  temporal  and  things  spiritual.  From  such  a  bed  a 
sinner  may  therefore  be  veiwed,  as  taking  a  new  survey  of  all 
the  objects  of  his  aims  and  efforts,  of  his  hopes  and  fears.  Un- 
der the  influence  of  this  clear  discernment  in  this  new  state  of  the 
mind,  the  following  observations  will  shevv  with  how  much  pro- 
priety he  may  take  up  this  despairing  lamentation. 

Among  the  objects  which  may  be  supposed  most  naturally  to 
arise  to  the  view  of  a  sinner  on  his  dying  bed,  his  youth  would 
undoubtedly  occupy  a  place  of  primary  importance.  In  what 
colours  will  his  various  conduct  during  this  period  appear  ?  He 
is  now  on  the  verge  of  eternity,  and  just  bidding  his  last  adieu  to 
the  present  world  and  all  its  cares,  and  hopes,  and  pleasures. 
The  earth  and  whatever  it  contains,  are  vanishing  forever  from 
his  sight;  and  the  places,  which  have  long  known  him,  will  within 
a  few  hours  know  him  no  more. 

Where  are  now  his  high  hopes  of  sublunary  good  ?  Where  his 
lively,  brilliant  spirits ;  his  ardent  thirst  for  sensual  enjoyment, 
for  gay  amusements,  for  sportive  companions,  and  for  the  haunts 
of  festivity,  mirth,  and  joy  ?  These  once  engrossed  all  his 
thoughts,  wishes,  and  labours.  With  a  voice,  sweeter  and  more 
deceitful  than  that  of  the  fabled  Sirens,  they  once  sung  to  him : 
"  Let  us  pluck  the  rose  buds  ere  they  wither ;"  and  "  Let  us  with- 
hold not  our  heart  from  any  joy."  Where  are  they  now?  They 
have  vanished  with  the  gaiety  of  the  morning-  cloud :  they  have 
fled  with  the  glitter  of  the  early  dew.     Of  what  madness  will  he 


412  THE  HARVEST  PAS'f.  [SER.  XXVII. 

see  himself  to  have  been  possessed,  that  he  could  be  allured 
away  fiom  duty  and  salvation  by  bubbles,  which,  though  adorned 
with  the  hues  of  enchantment,  burst  in  a  moment,  and  were  gone 
forever ! 

In  this  precious,  golden  season  God  called  to  him  from  heav- 
en, and  proclaimed  aloud  ;  "  I  love  them  that  love  me ;  and 
those  who  seek  me  early  shall  find  me.  Receive  my  instruction 
and  not  silver,  and  knowledge  rather  than  fine  gold.  For  wis- 
dom is  better  than  rubies,  and  all  things  that  may  be  desired  are 
not  to  be  compared  to  it.  I  will  cause  those  that  love  me  to  in- 
herit substance  ;  and  I  will  fill  their  treasures."  His  face  was 
then  clothed  in  smiles ;  and  his  voice  wa^  only  tenderness  and 
compassion.  Christ  also,  with  the  benignity  and  sweetness  of 
redeeming  love,  invited  him  to  "  come,  and  take  the  water  of 
life  freely ;"  proffered  to  him  the  eternal  blessings  of  his  atone- 
ment and  intercession ;  pointed  to  him  the  wounds  with  which 
he  was  pierced  for  his  sake,  and  the  love  with  which,  stronger 
than  death,  he  had  been  broken  on  the  cross,  and  poured  out 
his  blood,  that  he  might  live. 

The  Spirit  of  Grace,  with  the  same  boundless  affection,  whis- 
pered to  him,  "  to  turn  from  every  evil  way,  and  every  unright- 
eous thought,  to  the  Lord  his  God  ;  who  was  ready  to  have  mer- 
cy on  him,  and  abundantly  to  pardon  him."  In  the  recesses  of 
the  soul  he  awaked  the  friendly  monitions  of  conscience,  the  salu- 
tary fear  of  sin,  the  cheering  hope  of  pardon  and  peace,  and  the 
glory  of  the  promises  found  in  the  Gospel,  containing  and  com- 
municating everlasting  life. 

With  what  amazement  will  he  now  look  back,  and  see  that  he 
refused  these  infinite  blessings  ;  that  he  turned  his  back  on  a  for- 
giving God  ;  closed  his  ears  to  the  calls  of  a  crucified  Redeemer; 
and  hardened  his  heart  against  the  whispers  of  salvation,  com- 
municated by  the  Spirit  of  truth  and  life  !  How  will  he  wonder 
that  the  dream  of  life  could  seem  so  long;  and  that  he  could, 
even  in  one  instance,  much  more  in  a  thousand^  say  to  repent- 
ance, "  Go  thy  way  for  this  time ;  when  I  have  a  more  conven- 
ient season,  I  will  call  for  thee  !"     Hoav  will  he  be  astonished, 


SER.  XXVII.]  THE  HARVEST  PAST.  413 

that  he  refused  to  sow  the  seed  of  the  Gospel  in  this  precious 
season  ;  and  thus  rendered  the  field  of  his  Hfe  an  Arabian  desert ! 
Riper  years  will  naturally  next  offer  themselves  to  his  view. 
The  bustle  of  this  period  seemed  at  the  time  to  be  of  real  impor- 
tance ;  and,  although  not  devoted  to  virtue,  yet  to  be  occupied 
by  business  serious  and  solid.  But,  now,  how  suddenly  will  this 
specious  garb  drop ;  and  leave  in  all  their  nakedness  his  avarice, 
his  ambition,  and  his  graver  sensuality!  Of  what  value  now  are 
the  treasures  which  he  struggled  to  heap  up ;  and  the  offices 
which  he  toiled  and  sighed  to  fill ;  the  honours,  which  he  sacri- 
ficed truth  and  duty  to  acquire ;  and  the  power,  which  he  so  ar- 
dently longed  to  enjoy  ?  In  how  vain  a  shadow  did  he  walk ! 
On  what  mere  wind,  did  he  labour  to  satisfy  the  hunger  of  his 
soul  ?  How  will  his  boasted  reason  appear  to  have  been  busied ; 
in  what  dreams  of  unreal  good ;  what  bedlam  schemes  of  splen- 
dour and  pride ;  what  swinish  devotion  to  appetite ;  what  infan- 
tine contentions  about  toys  and  gewgaws ;  and  what  dreadful 
neglect  of  himself,  and  his  eternal  well-being  !  Instead  of  being 
employed  in  discovering  truth,  and  performing  duty ;  he  will  see 
it,  throughout  this  most  discreet  period  of  life,  labouring  to  flat- 
ter, to  justify,  to  perpetrate  iniquity ;  to  persuade  himself  that 
safety  might  be  found  in  sin ;  and  that  old  age,  or  the  last  sick- 
ness, was  the  proper  season  for  repentance  and  reformation. 
Blind  to  heaven,  it  had  eyes  only  for  this  world.  Deaf  to  the 
calls  of  salvation,  it  listened  solely  to  those  of  pride.  Insensible 
to  the  eternal  love  of  God,  it  opened  its  feelings  only  to  the  soli- 
citations of  time  and  sense. 

Behind  manhood,  we  behold  age  next  advancing ;  age,  to  him 
the  melancholy  evening  of  a  dark  and  distressing  day.  Here  he 
stood  upon  the  verge  of  the  grave ;  and  advanced  daily  to  see  it 
open,  and  receive  him.  How  will  he  now  be  amazed  that,  as 
death  drew  nigh,  he  was  still  in  no  degree  aware  of  its  approach: 
that,  when  his  face  was  covered  with  wrinkles  and  his  head  with 
hoary  hairs,  when  his  body  bent  towards  the  ground  and  his  limbs 
trembled  over  the  grave ;  he  could  still  postpone  the  great  work 

,  of  salvation  to  a  future  day,   and  believe  that  repentance  might 

I     Vol.  11.  5.3 


414  THE  HARVEST  PAST.  [SER.  XXVH. 

yet  be  safely  begun  at  some  distant  time !  How  hard  will  that 
heart  seem  to  him,  which,  when  the  King  of  terrors  was  knock- 
ing at  his  door,  when  the  judgment  was  set  for  him,  and  the 
books  were  opened  ;  when  'the  vail  of  the  invisible  world  was 
just  rending  in  twain,  and  the  voice  of  God  was  heard  calling 
with  a  most  awful  sound,  "  Thou  fool,  this  night  thy  soul  shall  be 
required  of  thee  ;"  when  hell  was  enlarging  her  month  to  receive 
him,  and  the  doors  of  heaven  were  closing  forever :  he  was  still 
unwarned  and  unconcerned  ;  a  drowsy  passenger,  saying,  "  Yet 
a  little  more  sleep,  a  little  more  slumber,"  while  the  vessel  in 
which  he  was  embarked  was  plunging  into  the  abyss.  In  all 
these  periods,  with  what  emotion  will  he  regard  his  innumerable 
sins  !  How  many  will  he  see  to  have  been  committed  in  a  single 
day,  a  month,  a  year  ;  of  omission,  of  commission  ;  of  childhood, 
and  of  riper  years  !  How  will  he  shudder  at  his  insensibility  to 
his  enormous  guilt ;  at  his  union  with  other  fools  in  making  a 
mock  at  sin ;  at  his  blindness  to  its  dreadful  debasement,  and 
most  fearful  reward  !  Sins  now  are  seen  by  him  to  be  the  most 
dangerous  and  fatal  of  all  enemies ;  mustered  in  battle  array 
against  his  soul,  at  the  most  awful  of  all  seasons ;  and  when  no 
ally,  no  friend,  appears  to  aid  him  in  the  unequal  conflict. 

Among  the  sins  which  will  most  affectingly  oppress  his  heart, 
his  negligence,  abuse,  and  prostitution,  of  the  means  of  grace 
will  especially  overwhelm  him.  God,  all  along  through  the  va- 
rious parts  of  his  life,  put  into  his  hands  with  unspeakable  kind- 
ness his  Word,  his  Sabbath,  and  the  blessings  of  his  sanctuary. 
He  gave  him  line  upon  line,  and  precept  upon  precept ;  warnings 
of  his  Word  and  providence  without  number ;  and  invitations  to 
embrace  the  Redeemer,  and  yield  himself  to  him  as  a  free-will 
offering,  which  were  new  every  morning  and  fresh  every  mo- 
ment. 

Nothing  will  now  more  astonish  him,  than  that  he  could  possi- 
bly lose,  profane,  and  destroy  in  anmsement,  business,  idleness  or 
sleep,  a  single  sabbath  ;  that  he  could  ever  be  absent  from  the 
sanctuary ;  that  he  could  wander  after  covetousness  and  pleasure, 
during  a  single  prayer  ;  or  neglect  to  hear  and  ponder  a  single 


tSER.  XXVII.]  THE  HARVEST  PAST.  415 

sermon  ;  that  he  was  not  engrossed  by  the  voice  of  the  Divine 
Charmer,  charming  him  with  infinite  wisdom  and  tenderness  to 
Ufe  eternal  ;  that  he  did  not  tremble  at  the  word  of  the  Lord,  re- 
sounding in  his  ears  the  guilt,  the  danger,  and  final  doom,  of 
all  the  workers  of  iniquity,  and  proclaiming  glad  tidings  of  great 
joy  unto  every  repenting  and  returning  prodigal. 

How  naturally,  how  passionately  will  he  now  exclaim,  "  Oh, 
that  my  lost  and  squandered  days  might  once  more  return  ;  that 
I  might  again  go  up  to  the  house  of  God  ;  that  I  might  again  in 
the  invaluable  season  of  Youth,  before  my  sins  had  become  a  bur- 
den so  heavy  and  so  grievous  to  be  borne,  be  present  at  the 
morning  and  evening  sacrifice  of  prayer  and  praise ;  and  again 
hear  the  Divine  voice  calling  me  to  faith  and  repentance  in  the 
Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and  to  the  possession  of  endless  glory  !  Were 
a  thousand  worlds  mine,  how  cheerfully  would  I  give  them  all, 
for  one  day  to  be  spent  in  the  Courts  of  the  Lord  !  Oh  that  one 
year,  one  month,  one  sabbath,  might  be  added  to  my  wretched, 
forfeited  life  !  But  ah  !  the  day  of  Grace  is  past :  my  wishes,  nay 
my  prayers,  are  in  vain.  In  that  long  eternity  which  opens  be- 
fore me,  no  sabbath  will  ever  dawn  upon  my  wishful  eyes ;  no 
sanctuary  will  unfold  the  gates  of  peace  and  life  ;  no  prayers  will 
ever  find  a  gracious  ear  ;  no  praises  will  ever  ascend  to  heaven  ; 
no  sermon  will  ever  call  wandering  and  perishing  sinners  to  re- 
pentance ;  no  proffers  of  endless  life  will  ever  be  made  ;  the 
charming  sound  of  a  Saviour's  voice  will  never  more  be  heard  ; 
and  the  music  of  salvation  will  be  dumb  forever." 

Such  will  be  the  natural  retrospect  of  a  dying  sinner.  What 
will  be  his  prospects  ? 

Before  him,  robed  in  all  his  terrors,  stands  Death,  the  messen- 
ger of  God,  now  come  to  summon  him  away.  To  what,  to  whom 
is  he  summoned  ?  To  that  final  Judgment,  into  which  eviery 
wo7-k  of  his  hands  will  be  speedily  brought,  with  every  secret 
thing :  to  that  Judge  ;  from  whose  sentence  there  is  no  appeal, 
from  whose  eye  there  is  no  concealment,  from  whose  hand  there 
is  no  escape.  Through  the  last  agonies  lies  his  gloomy,  dread- 
ful passage  into  the  unseen  world  ;  his  path  to  the  bar  of  God. 


4 1 C  THE  HARVEST  PAST.  [SER.  XXVII. 

What  a  passage  !  What  an  interview  !  He,  a  hardened,  rebel- 
hous,  impious,  ungrateful  wretch  ;  who  has  wasted  all  the  means 
of  salvation,  prostituted  his  talents,  squandered  his  time,  despised 
his  Maker,  "  crucified  afresh  the  Lord  of  glory,  and  done  despite 
unto  the  Spirit  of  Grace  ;"  now  comes  before  that  glorious  and 
offended  God,  who  knows  all  the  sins  which  he  has  committed. 
He  is  here,  without  an  excuse  to  plead,  without  a  cloak  to  cover 
his  guilt.  What  would  he  now  give  for  an  interest  in  that  Atone- 
ment which  he  slighted,  rejected,  and  ridiculed,  in  the  present 
world ;  in  that  Intercession,  on  which  while  here  he  never  em- 
ployed a  thought ;  and  in  that  Salvation,  for  which  perhaps  he 
never  uttered  a  prayer  !  The  smiles  of  redeeming,  forgiving,  and 
sanctifying  love  are  now  changed  into  the  frowns  of  an  angry, 
and  irreconcileable  Judge.  The  voice  of  mercy  sounds  no  more  ; 
and  the  hope  of  pardon  has  vanished  on  this  side  of  the  grave. 

To  the  Judgment  succeeds  the  boundless  vast  of  Eternity. 
Live,  he  must :  die,  he  cannot.  But  where,  how,  with  whom,  is 
he  to  hve  ?  The  world  of  darkness,  sorrow,  and  despair,  is  his 
final  habitation.  Sin,  endless  and  increasing  sin,  is  his  dreadful 
character  ;  and  sinners  like  himself  are  his  miserable  and  eternal 
companions.  Alone  in  the  midst  of  millions,  surrounded  by  en- 
emies only,  without  a  friend,  without  a  comfort,  without  a  hope  ; 
he  lifts  up  his  eyes,  and  in  deep  despair  takes  a  melancholy  sur- 
vey of  the  immense  regions  around  him,  but  finds  nothing  to  al- 
leviate his  woe,  nothing  to  support  his  drooping  mind,  nothing  to 
lessen  the  pangs  of  a  broken  heart. 

In  a  far  distant  region  he  sees  a  faint  ghmmering  of  that  "  Sun 
of  Righteousness,"  which  shall  never  more  shine  upon  him.  A 
feeble,  dying  sound  of  the  praise,  the  everlasting  songs  of  "  the 
general  assembly  and  church  of  the  first-born"  trembles  on  his 
ear  ;  and  in  an  agonizing  manner  reminds  him  of  the  blessings  in 
which  he  also  might  have  shared,  and  which  he  voluntarily  cast 
away.  In  dim,  and  distant  vision  those  heavens  are  seen,  where 
multitudes  of  his  former  friends  and  companions  dwell ;  friends 
and  companions,  who  in  this  world  loved  God,  believed  in  the 
Redeemer,  and  by  a  patient  continuance  in  well-doing  sought  for 


SER.  XXVII.]  THE  HARVEST  PAST.  417 

glory,  honour,  and  immortality.  Among  them  perhaps,  his  own 
fond  parents  ;  who,  with  a  thousand  sighs,  and  prayers  and  tears, 
commended  him,  while  they  tabernacled  here  below,  to  the  mer- 
cy of  God  and  to  the  love  of  their  own  Divine  R,edeemer.  His 
children  also,  and  the  wife  of  his  bosom  gone  before  him  -,  have 
perhaps  fondly  waited  at  the  gates  of  glory  in  the  ardent  expec- 
tation, the  cheering  hope,  of  seeing  him  once  so  beloved,  reunited 
to  their  number,  and  a  partaker  in  their  everlasting  joy.  But 
they  have  waited  in  vain. 

The  curtain  now  is  drawn  ;  and  the  amazing  vast  is  unbosom- 
ed to  his  view.  Nature,  long  decayed,  sinks  under  the  united 
pressure  of  sickness,  sorrow,  and  despair.  His  eyes  grow  dim  ; 
his  ears  deaf;  his  heart  forgets  to  beat ;  and  his  spirit,  lingering, 
terrified,  amazed,  chngs  to  life,  and  struggles  to  keep  possession 
of  its  earthly  tenement.  But,  hurried  by  an  unseen  Almighty 
hand,  it  is  irresistibly  launched  into  the  unseen  abyss.  Alone  and 
friendless,  it  ascends  to  God  ;  to  see  all  its  sins  set  in  order  before 
its  eyes.  With  a  gloomy  and  dreadful  account  of  life  spent  only 
in  sin,  without  a  single  act  of  piety,  or  voluntary  kindness  to  men^ 
with  no  faith  in  Christ,  and  no  sorrow  for  iniquity  ;  it  is  cast  out 
as  wholly  wicked  and  unprofitable,  into  the  land  of  darkness  and 
the  shadow  of  death  ;  there  to  wind  its  melancholy  journey 
through  regions  of  sorrow  and  despair,  ages  without  end  ;  and  to 
take  up  forever  the  gloomy  and  distressing  lamentation  in  the 
text,  "  The  harvest  is  past,  the  summer  is  ended  ;  but  I  am  not 
saved." 


SERMON  XXVIII. 

CONSIDERATIONS  ON  THE  CHARACTER  OF  NOAH. 

TI.  Peter  ii.  5. 

—But  saved  Noah ^  the  eighth  person,  a  preacher  of  righteousness 
bringing  hi  the  food  upon  the  world  of  the  ungodly. 

In  this  chapter  St.  Peter  argues  from  the  analogy  of  God's  prov- 
idence, that,  as  he  punished  sinners  in  the  former  ages,  so,  from 
the  immutabihty  of  his  character,  it  is  to  be  beheved,  that  he 
will  punish  sinners,  also,  under  the  dispensation  of  the  Gospel. 
Among  the  instances  of  such  punishment,  selected  by  the  Apostle 
for  this  purpose,  one,  the  most  affecting,  which  he  could  have 
ehosen,  is  the  destruction  of  the  ungodly  by  the  flood,  mentioned 
in  the  text.  In  his  account  of  this  subject  he  remarks,  in  order  to 
remind  his  readers  of  the  love  and  faithfulness  of  God  to  the 
righteous,  the  preservation  of  Noah  from  the  general  ruin  ;  and 
characterizes  him  by  this  honourable  epithet ;  "  a  preacher  of 
righteousness." 

To  understand  the  import  of  this  character,  we  must  recur  to 
the  age,  and  circumstances,  of  Noah.  In  his  days,  we  are  inform- 
ed, "  the  earth  was  corrupt  before  God,  and  was  filled  with  vio- 
lence." From  the  account,  given  us  in  the  sixth  chapter  of  Gen- 
esis, it  would  seem,  that  the  family  of  Seth^  or  more  probably, 
the  great  body  of  the  descendants  of  Adam,  who  had  been  pro- 
fessed worshippers  of  the  true  God,  relaxing  their  religious  prin- 
ciples, had,  much  more  closely  than  before,  united  themselves  to 
that  part  of  their  fellow  men,  who  were  openly  irreligious.  The 
distinction  between  the  friends  and  the  enemies  of  Religion  had, 
for  ages,  been  strenuously  preserved.     On  this  ground  opposite 


8ER.  XXVIII.]  CONSIDERATIONS,  &c.  419 

names  are  given  to  them  by  Moses ;  or  perhaps  more  probably, 
the  names  were  assumed  by  themselves,  and  retained  by  Moses. 
The  class,  which,  by  publicly  adhering  to  the  precepts  of  God, 
manifested  in  their  character  his  image,  were  called  Children  of 
God  ;  while  the  class,  which,  by  their  irreligion,  appeared  to  be 
totally  destitute  of  this  image,  and  discovered  strongly  their  like- 
ness to  apostate  Adam^  were  called  the  Children  of  Men. 

These  two  great  divisions  of  the  human  race,  it  is  indicated  by 
the  sacred  historian,  entered,  some  time  before  the  deluge,  into 
numerous  and  intimate  connections  by  marriage.  "  The  sons 
of  God  saw  the  daughters  of  men,  that  they  were  fair  ;  and  they 
took  them  wives  of  all  whom  they  chose.""  The  offspring  of  this 
immoral  and  indefensible  union  became,  as  we  learn,  eminent- 
ly licentious  "  and  also,"  says  the  sacred  historian,  "  after  that, 
when  the  sons  of  God  came  in  unto  the  daughters  of  men,  and 
they  bare  children  to  them,  the  same  became  mighty  men,  which 
were  of  old,  men  of  renown.  And  God  saw,  that  the  wickedness 
of  man  was  great  in  the  earth,  and  that  every  imagination  of  the 
thoughts  of  his  heart  was  only  evil  continually.  And  it  repented 
the  Lord,  that  he  had  made  man  on  the  earth,  and  it  grieved  him 
at  his  heart."  From  this  forcible  language  it  is  clear,  that  the 
corruption  was  excessive,  and  wonderful.  It  is  evident  also,  that 
it  was  extended  throughout  the  world  ;  not,  probably,  so  as  to 
reach  every  individual,  beside  the  family  of  Noah,  but  so  as  gen- 
erally to  prevail  wherever  the  earth  was  inhabited.         , 

Whenever  virtuous  men  condescend  to  the  measures  and  prin- 
ciples of  the  wicked  ;  or,  in  Scriptural  language,  whenever  such 
men  "  are  conformed  to  the  world"  Religion  regularly  decays; 
and  wickedness  gains  the  ascendant.  A  steady,  firm,  open  adhe- 
rence to  undefiled  religion,  is  a  primary  means  of  supporting  the 
cause  of  God,  and  perpetuating  virtue  in  mankind.  All  civility 
to  sin,  all  conformity  to  loose  customs,  all  compliances  with  the 
demands,  all  concessions  to  the  persuasion,  all  submission  to  the 
authority,  of  mere  worldliness  ;  are  direct  sacrifices  of  righteous- 
ness and  truth.  It  is  of  no  consequence  how  decent,  how  ap- 
parently harmless,  how  agreeably  conciliatory,  this  conduct  may 


420  CONSIDERATIONS  ON  THE  [SER.  XXVIII, 

be.  He,  who  concedes  in  this  manner,  yields  up  the  very  object, 
which  he  may  be  really  labouring  to  promote,  and  which,  he  may 
flatter  himself,  his  measures  are  calculated  to  secure.  In  periods 
of  declension  virtue  must,  in  a  great  measure,  lay  aside  the 
sweetness  and  gentleness  of  her  character.  Her  face,  instinct- 
ively overspread  with  smiles,  must  assume  austerity  and  sternness. 
It  is  no  longer  her  business  to  allure,  and  charm ;  but  to  resist, 
contend,  and  overcome.  Her  followers  must  then  "  put  on  the 
whole  armour  of  God  ;"  must  "  blow  the  trumpet  in  ZPon,"  rally 
around  the  divine  standard,  and  conflict  "  earnestly  for  the  faith, 
once  delivered  to  the  saints."  The  mildness  of  Melancthon  will 
not  here  succeed :  the  strenuousness  of  Luther  is  indispensable. 

If  good  men  yield,  nay,  if  they  condescend,  to  the  opinions, 
and  customs,  of  bad  men,  of  whatever  nature  they  may  be ; 
much  more  if  they  form  intimate  connections,  and  alliances, 
with  the  licentious  ;  they  give  up  the  cause,  which  they  are  sum- 
moned to  defend.  Thus  it  was  in  the  case  before  us.  From  the 
concubinage  here  described,  and  the  lewd  dispositions  which 
gave  birth  to  it,  sprang,  according  to  the  unchangeable  law  of 
nature,  oppression,  injustice,  contention,  irreligion,  and  the  final 
abandonment  of  all  duty,  and  all  principle. 

In  consequence  of  this  general  prostration  of  moral  good, 
God  determined  to  destroy  the  race  of  men.  Yet,  according  to 
his  abundant  long  suffering,  he  allotted  to  them  "  one  hundred 
and  twenty  years,"  as  an  opportunity  for  repentance  and  refor- 
mation. During  this  period,  probably  through  the  whole  of  it, 
and  to  this  collection  of  human  beings,  Noah  was  "  a  preacher 
of  righteousness."  His  situation,  while  performing  the  duties  of 
his  office  to  this  evil  generation  of  men,  has  often  struck  me  with 
very  great  force ;  and  appeared  to  furnish  very  valuable  lessons 
of  instruction. 

To  understand,  and  realize  this  subject,  it  will  be  necessary  to 
consider,  the  circumstances,  in  which  Noah  was  placed.  He 
was  alone  in  the  midst  of  a  world  of  opposers  and  enemies.  All 
the  weight  of  immense  numbers  ;  all  the  power  of  example  ;  all 
the  force  of  argument ;  ail  the  efficacy  of  hatred ;  all  the  pun- 


SER.  XXVIII.]  CHARACTER  OF  NOAH.  421 

gency  of  scorn,  derision,  and  obloquy  ;  were,  beyond  any  reason- 
able doubt,  exerted  against  him.  For  support  he  could  look  to 
nothing  but  his  family,  his  faith,  and  his  God.  He  saw,  that  he 
must  overcome  the  world,  and  every  worldly  feeling ;  or  yield  to 
destruction  here,  as  the  commencement  of  a  more  terrible  de- 
struction hereafter.  Even  his  preservation  was  overcast  with 
gloom  and  sorrow.  The  millions  around  him  were  hastening  on 
to  ruin.  Among  them,  in  all  probability,  were  numbered  many 
of  his  own  beloved  connections.  The  catastrophe  was  approach- 
ing with  a  sure  and  rapid,  as  well  as  dreadful,  step.  The  guilty 
beings,  who  were  exposed  to  this  terrible  evil,  were  perfectly  at 
ease,  and  heedless  of  their  danger.  To  these  persons  his  predic- 
tions, warnings,  and  exhortations,  were  all  addressed.  On  his 
part  they  were  accompanied  with  yearning,  anxiety,  deep  sorrow, 
and  sore  discouragement.  On  theirs,  they  were  received  with 
unbelief,  gaiety,  contempt,  and  ridicule.  Such  was  the  situation 
of  the  preacher ;  and  such  the  character  of  his  audience.  Let 
us  see  what  instruction  we  may  derive  from  this  subject. 

1  St.  It  is  evident,  that  the  general  Opinion  cannot  he  pleaded 
with  any  force  in  matters  of  Religion. 

Here  the  universal  opinion  of  a  world  was  directly  opposed 
both  to  the  will,  and  the  worship,  of  God.  All  plainly  forgot 
their  duty ;  disbelieved  their  God  ;  and  despised  his  religion. 
But  the  opposition  was  not  the  less  false,  or  foolish,  because  it 
was  universal.  Truth  does  not  cease  to'  be  truth,  because  it  is 
uttered,  nor  duty  lose  its  importance,  because  it  is  practised,  only 
by  one  man.  Nor  is  falsehood  less  erroneous,  or  mischievous, 
nor  irreligion  less  guilty,  because  they  are  adopted  by  a  world. 
At  the  same  time,  the  opposition  was  not,  on  this  account,  at  all 
the  less  ruinous.  None  gained  any  thing  by  the  general  coun- 
tenance. Every  one  lost  and  suffered  as  entirely,  as  if  he  had 
embarked  singly  in  this  opposition. 

Noah,  in  the  mean  time,  was  alone.  Yet  he  was  right,  both  in 
his  opinions  and  his  practice.  He  held  the  truth,  though  he 
held  it  against  a  world.  He  performed  his  duty,  although  he  op- 
posed the  whole  family  of  Adam.     He  set  his  face  against  ail  the 

VoE.  n.  54 


42^2  CONSIDEKxi'l  lUNS  Ox\  Till:.  [SER.  XXVlIZ- 

wise  and  learned,  the  ingenious  and  eloquent,  among  mankind, 
lie  moved  onward  against  the  stream  of  authority,  wealth,  pow- 
er, and  grandeur.  Still  he  was  a  wise  and  good  man  ;  and  all 
who  opposed  him,  were  fools  and  sinners. 

2dly.   The  contempt  and  ridicule,  exerted  against   Religion, 
neither  prove  its  falsehood,  nor  lessen  its  value. 

Noah,  we  are  abundantly  warranted  to  believe,  was  an  object 
of  contempt  to  most  of  his  contemporaries.  It  is  at  all  times 
difficult,  when  we  are  despised,  to  escape  ridicule.  Here  it  was 
impossible.  Every  one  felt  himself  secure ;  and  regarded  the 
alarm  sounded  by  the  preacher,  as  the  outcry  of  enthusiasm, 
folly,  or  frenzy.  The  "  scoffers,  who  walked  after  their  own 
lusts"  at  that  period,  exclaimed,  not  only  with  more  insolence 
and  contempt,  but  with  better  reason,  and  greater  success,  than 
those  of  modern  times :  "  Where  is  the  promise  of  his  coming  .' 
for,  since  the  fathers  fell  asleep,  all  things  continue  as  they  were 
from  the  beginning  of  the  Creation."  The  philosophers  of  those 
days  undoubtedly  questioned  with  as  much  good  will,  and  more 
ability,  than  those  among  the  antient  heathen,  or  the  Infidels  of 
our  own  times  ;  the  providence,  the  perfections,  and  even  the 
existence,  of  God.  The  same  "evil  heart  of  unbelief"  has  ex- 
actly the  same  tendencies,  and  produces  exactly  the  same  effects. 
in  all  ages,  and  circumstances.  But  the  mind  of  man  was  not 
improbably  possessed,  antecedently  to  the  deluge,  of  a  superiour 
native  capacity,  and  peculiar  strength.  The  body,  which  it  in- 
habited, was  certainly  composed  of  nobler  materials,  and  con- 
structed on  a  higher  scale ;  was  nourished  by  purer  aliment,  and 
inhaled  a  more  healthful  atmosphere.  Its  vigour  was  such,  as 
enabled  it  to  endure  through  a  thousand  years  ;  and  its  faculties 
were,  in  all  probabihty,  suited  to  its  extended  duration.  Unhke 
the  frail,  perishing  tenements,  in  which  our  minds  dwell,  it  passed 
through  a  childhood,  youth,  and  manhood,  of  eight  hundred 
years:  and  throughout  this  period  at  least,  was  full  of  energy, 
and  fitted  for  exertion.  With  the  superiour  vigour,  and  compar- 
ative perfection,  of  such  a  body,  so  fitted  to  aid  an  active  mind 
in  all  its  investigations,  men  sharpened  their  reasoning  powers 


SER.  XXVIIL]  CHARACTER  OF  NOAH.  423 

by  exercising  them  throughout  this  long  period.  It  may  well  ho 
believed,  therefore,  that  they  discovered  many  objections  against 
a  Revelation  from  God,  and  against  his  being,  character,  and 
works,  which  modern  Infidels  have  not  yet  explored  ;  and  han- 
dled the  weapons  of  unbelief  with  a  skill  and  acuteness,  to  which 
they  are  strangers.  In  the  mean  time,  we  may  safely  conclude, 
that  the  false  philosophy  now  in  vogue,  was  then  far  better  un- 
derstood, and  far  more  successfully  employed  in  their  hostilities 
against  Religion.  Almost  every  argument  of  this  nature,  urged 
by  our  own  contemporaries,  had  theii  a  foundation,  and  a  force, 
incomparably  superiour  to  what  it  can  now  claim.  The  date, 
assigned  to  the  Creation  by  Moses,  now  denied,  because  the 
world  must  be  supposed  to  have  existed  more  than  six  thousand 
years,  could  then  with  a  far  better  face  be  pronounced  false  ;  be* 
cause  it  could  much  less  reasonably  be  supposed  to  have  existed 
only  two  thousand  years.  Life,  now  considered  as  sufficiently 
desirable  to  become  the  only  object  of  rational  attention,  was 
then  ten  times  more  valuable,  and  proportionally  more  deserving 
of  regard.  Passion  and  appetite,  now  declared  to  be  the  only 
sources  of  real  good,  were  then  influenced  by  a  keener  excitement ; 
sustained  by  stronger  powers ;  and  indulged  through  an  im- 
mensely greater  period.  To  be  a  mere  animal,  now  so  coveted, 
was  then  beyond  measure  more  deserving  of  the  attachment  of 
mankind.  The  aphorism  of  vice  was  not  then,  "  Let  us  eat,  and 
drink  ;  for  to-morrow  we  die  :"  but,  "  Let  us  eat,  and  drink  ;  for 
we  shall  live  forever."  Easily,  and  finally,  could  men  of  this 
character  prove  to  their  own  satisfaction,  that  the  world  had  ex- 
isted from  eternity  ;  that  the  plastic  powers  of  nature  were  am- 
ply sufficient  to  account  for  the  existence  of  all  the  beings  which 
it  contains,  without  the  interference  of  an  Intelligent  first  cause ; 
that,  if  there  was  such  a  cause,  he  had  given  men  their  natural 
passions  and  appetites,  and  provided  means  for  their  gratifica- 
tion. As  an  irresistible  consequence,  therefore,  it  was  both  law- 
ful and  wise  to  indulge  them ;  for  this  was,  plainly,  the  proper 
end  of  our  being.  As  all  that  is  termed  sin,  is  only  the  indul- 
gence of  some  passion,  or  some  appetite:  and  as  it  was  thus 


424  CONSIDERATIONS  ON  THE  [SER.  XXVIII. 

shewn,  in  every  case,  to  be  lawful  ;  they  may  be  easily  believed 
to  have  determined,  with  Hobbs,  that  it  is  lawful  to  get  whatever 
we  can  with  impunity  ;  that  nothing  is  right,  but  what  the  Mag- 
istrate enjoins,  and  nothing  wrong,  but  what  he  forbids ;  that 
there  is  no  distinction  between  right  and  wrong,  and  no  founda- 
tion in  nature  for  either :  with  BoUngh'oke,  that  the  law  of  na- 
ture forbids  no  lewdness,  unless  incest  in  its  high  degrees :  with 
Hume,  that  eloquence,  gracefulness,  health,  cleanliness,  taper 
legs,  and  broad  shoulders,  are  virtues ;  that  a  miracle  cannot  ex- 
ist, and  that,  therefore,  there  can  be  no  Revelation :  with  Vol- 
taire, either  that  there  is  no  God,  or,  if  there  is  one,  that  he  is  a 
limited  being  :  and,  with  Godwin,  that  promiscuous  concubinage 
was  lawful ;  marriage  an  unjustifiable  monopoly ;  and  immortal 
life  in  this  world,  the  only  thing  necessary  to  complete  the  per- 
fection of  man,  easily  attainable  by  the  proper  use  of  natural  and 
moral  medicines. 

To  all  these  conclusions  they  were  led,  with  peculiar  confi- 
dence, by  the  ease,  with  which  subsistence  was  acquired,  and  the 
vigourous  constitution,  which  still  remained  in  other  things  as 
well  as  in  man.  The  curse  appears  not  to  have  found  its  com- 
pletion, until  after  the  deluge.  A  part  of  the  paradisiacal  state 
seems  to  have  continued  in  the  world,  until  this  great  catastro- 
phe. The  frame  of  man  was  fitted  to  endure.  The  air,  which 
he  breathed,  and  the  food,  by  which  he  was  sustained,  were  still 
endued  with  powers,  so  favourable  to  longevity,  that  decay  and 
death  stood  aloof,  and  were  hardly  realized.  The  earth,  also, 
retained,  still,  so  much  of  the  fertility  of  Eden,  as  to  produce, 
spontaneously,  not  a  small  part  of  the  subsistence  of  its  inhabi- 
tants. Hence  industry  was  almost  unnecessary :  and  life  might, 
without  the  fear  of  want,  be  chiefly  devoted  to  sloth,  and  sensual- 
ity. The  means  of  pleasure  were  more  easy,  and  more  abun- 
dant ;  the  relish  for  it  was  more  acute,  and  the  enjoyment  was  less 
interrupted,  and  protracted  through  an  incomparably  greater  ex- 
tent. Hence  every  sensual  habit  became  more  intense,  more 
operative,  and  more  absolutely  immoveable.  The  sources  of  li- 
centious sophistry  were,  therefore,  more  abundant ;  and  the  ar- 


SER.  XXVIII.]  CHARACTER  OF  NOAH.  425 

guments,  derived  from  them,  replenished  with  superiour  strength. 
They  were  also  received  by  such  minds  \i  ith  a  keener  rehsh  ;  as 
being  peculiarly  important  to  them,  and  in  a  sense  indispensable. 
The  conclusions,  which  were  adopted,  must  have  been  admitted, 
therefore,  without  a  doubt,  and  with  hardly  a  solitary  e.vception. 

At  the  same  time,  the  considerations,  which  now  have  a  prima- 
ry influence  in  restraining  men  from  sin,  and  are  triumphantly  in- 
sisted on  in  the  desk,  as  the  chief  dissuasives  from  hcentiousness 
and  stupidity,  were  then  prevented  of  almost  all  their  force.  It 
was  in  vain  for  the  preacher  of  righteousness  to  urge  the  vanity 
of  earthly  enjoyments  before  men,  who  knew  that  their  enjoy- 
ments were  not  vain  ;  but  sure,  abundant,  and  delightful.  It  was 
in  vain  to  insist  on  the  danger  and  distress  of  sickness,  before 
men,  who  were  never  sick.  The  pangs  ol  a  dying  bed  were  re- 
cited to  no  purpose,  where  death  was  seen  only  at  the  end  of 
many  centuries.  Eternity  could  scarcely  be  awful  to  those,  who 
either  denied  its  existence,  or  saw  it  in  dim  and  misty  vision,  be- 
yond a  long  succession  of  future  ages.  If  we  suppose  a  judg- 
ment to  have  been  believed  ;  what  influence  could  it  have  had  on 
minds,  who  saw  a  kind  of  immortality  spread  between  them  and 
their  final  trial  ? 

The  solitary  individual,  therefore,  who,  in  these  circumstances, 
and  before  these  men,  attacked  lust,  denounced  sensuality,  and 
doomed  sin  to  a  dreadful  retribution,  was  hated  much,  and  des- 
pised more.  The  finger  of  scorn  pointed  out  to  universal  deri- 
sion the  vain,  senseless  Enthusiast,  who  dared  to  resist  all  the 
wise  and  great.  The  hiss  of  obloquy  pursued  the  dreaming  Itin- 
erant, who  singly  advanced  his  own  opinions,  against  those  of  the 
whole  race  of  men.  Wherever  he  went,  he  was  surrounded  by 
enemies  :  wherever  he  preached,  he  was  heard  with  sneers.  To 
every  audience  his  language  must  have  been,  "  Behold,  ye  des^- 
pisers,  and  wonder,  and  perish :  for  I  work  a  work  among  you, 
which  none  will  believe,  though  a  man  declare  it  unto  you." 

Religion  then^  was  almost  absolutely  what  Infidels  have  tri- 
umphantly said  it  will  be,  in  the  course  of  another  age,  extermi- 
nated  from  the  world.     Still,  it  was  true  ;  still,  it  was  from  God. 


42G  CONSIDERATIONS  ON  THE  [SER.  XXVIII. 

3dly.  Example,  although  it  is  that  of  numbers  ever  so  great^  or 
of  individuals  ever  so  able,  splendid^  or  poivcrfid  ^  is  no  proof  of 
rectitude. 

Here  all  mankind  walked  in  one  broad,  and  crooked  road. 
'■'  The  earth  was  corrupt  before  God,  and  was  filled  with  vio- 
lence. And  God  looked  upon  the  earth,  and,  behold,  it  was 
corrupt :  for  all  flesh  had  corrupted  his  way  upon  the  earth. 
And  every  imagination  of  the  thoughts  of  man's  heart  was  only 
evil  continually."  "  And  God  said  unto  Noah,  The  end  of  al! 
flesh  is  come  before  me  ;  for  the  earth  is  filled  with  violence 
through  them :  and,  behold,  I  will  destroy  them,  with  the 
earth." 

Still  "  the  way"  was  "  broad,  and  crooked  ;"  although  "  many 
there  were,  who  went  in  thereat."  It  was  "  the  way  to  hell,  go- 
ing down  to  the  chambers  of  death."  Thither  it  led  ;  there  they 
all  entered  ;  there  they  all  perished. 

Whatever  others  do,  their  example  will  furnish  no  justification, 
and  no  safety,  to  us  in  following  them.  That,  which  they  do,  is 
not  the  less  guilty,  nor  the  less  dangerous,  because  they  do  it : 
nor  because  of  their  numbers,  their  talents,  their  stations,  or  their 
fame.  Had  Noah  followed  this  world  of  sinners,  would  he  have 
been  innocent  ?  Would  he  have  been  safe  ?  Would  he  have 
been  more  innocent,  or  more  safe,  because  the  sinners,  whom  he 
followed,  were  immensely  numerous  ?  Would  he  ever  have  en- 
tered the  ark  ?  Would  he  have  passed  securely  over  the  waves 
of  destruction  ? 

4thly.  Religion  is  not  less  true,  less  excellent,  nor  less  secure  of 
the  favour  of  God,  because  the  number  of  its  votaries  is  small. 

Never  was  that  number  so  small,  since  the  earth  first  became 
extensively  inhabited.  Yet  Noah  and  his  family  were  distin- 
guished by  pecuHar  proofs  of  the  favour  of  God.  They  were  se- 
lected out  of  a  world  of  sinners ;  and  secured  in  the  ark  from 
the  universal  ruin.  The  earth,  recovered  from  destruction,  was 
given  to  them,  with  an  absolute  dominion  over  all  which  it  con- 
tained. Their  sacrifice  was  graciously  accepted.  The  Lord 
smelled  a  sweet  savour  in  the  offering ;  established  his  covenant 


SER.  XXVIII.3  CHARACTER  OF  NOAH.  4^7 

with  them  ;  in  which  he  was  pleased  to  declare,  that  "the  waters 
of  Noah  should  no  more  return  to  cover  the  earth."  To  confirm 
this  covenant  he  "  set  his  bow  in  the  cloud  ;"  and  promised  that 
he  would  look  upon  it,  "  and  remember  the  everlasting  covenant 
between  God,  and  every  living  creature."  To  these  and  many 
other  proofs  of  the  divine  favour  he  finally  added  the  blessings  of 
immortality :  and  the  faith,  approved  on  earth  by  these  glorious 
testimonies,  was  rewarded  beyond  the  grave  with  enjoyments, 
endless  and  inexpressible. 

othly.  Sinners  can  derive  no  hope  of  Safety  from  their  num- 
bers. 

Perhaps  no  consideration  more  strongly  contributes  to  persuade 
sinners,  that  they  are  safe,  than  that  of  their  multitude.  So  far 
as  I  have  been  able  to  observe,  they  feel  usually  assured,  that 
God  will  not  destroy  such  a  numerous  train  of  intelligent  beings, 
as  are  included  under  this  name.  This  argument  was  undoubt- 
edly pleaded,  before  the  deluge,  as  a  complete  refutation  of  the 
warnings,  and  predictions,  o(  Noah.  It  is  easily  realized,  that  it 
was  advanced  with  triumph,  and  considered  as  decisive.  We 
can  almost  hear  them  say,  and  say  with  both  the  smile,  and  the 
sneer  of  victory,  "  Can  it  be  imagined,  that  God  made  so  many 
of  his  creatures,  merely  to  destroy  them."  Never  could  this  sug- 
gestion be  made  with  equal  force  ;  for  the  destruction  threatened 
was  almost  absolutely  universal.  Still  it  was  a  mere  suggestion  ; 
and  those,  who  made  it,  were  all  in  fact  destroyed.  They  were 
not  indeed  created,  nor  any  other  beings,  for  destruction,  as  the 
proper  end  of  their  existence  ;  as  is  here  falsely  insinuated  ;  but 
beings  were  here  created,  who  were  afterwards  actually  destroy- 
ed for  their  rebellion  and  impenitence,  notwithstanding  this  argu- 
ment. What  was  true  of  these  men  will  be  true  of  all  other  im- 
penitent sinners.  Every  person  of  this  character,  who  enters- 
the  future  world  in  a  state  of  impenitence,  is  undone.  "  Without 
holiness"  no  man  ever  did,  "  no  man  ever  will,  sec  the  Lord." 

6thly.  The  genuine  Faith  of  the  Gospel  irilJ  resist,  finally  ami 
effectually,  all  opposition. 


423  CONSIDERATIONS  ON  THE  [SER.  XXVIU. 

"  By  faitli  Noah,  being  warned  of  God  of  things  not  seen  as 
yet,  moved  with  fear,  prepared  an  ark,  to  the  saving  of  his  house; 
by  the  which  he  condemned  the  world,  and  became  heir  of  the 
righteousness,  which  is  by  faith."  The  faith  of  Noah  was  the 
faith  of  the  Gospel :  the  "  faith,"  which  "  worketh  by  love  ;"  the 
faith,  "  which  purifieth  the  heart;"  the  faith,  "  which  overcomelh 
the  world."  Throughout  his  life,  and  particularly  for  one  hun- 
dred and  twenty  years,  he  resisted  the  opinions,  the  practices, 
the'^nfluence,  and  the  authority,  of  a  world ;  of  a  race  of  men 
more  abandoned,  more  opposed  to  Religion,  to  good  men,  and 
to  God,  than  any  other  generation,  which  has  lived.  But  neither 
their  numbers,  their  learning,  their  power,  nor  their  hostility, 
could  shake  his  purpose,  slacken  his  labours,  or  change  his  char- 
acter. So  far  as  we  are  able  to  conjecture,  there  was  never 
more  done  to  excite  unbelief,  or  subvert  faith,  in  any  human 
bosom.  Never  were  circumstances,  either  for  their  duration  or 
their  efficacy,  more  fitted  to  break  down  so  frail  a  being  as  man, 
than  those  of  Noah.  This  eminent  preacher  of  righteousness 
had  all  the  human  feelings.  There  is  not  a  reason  to  beheve, 
that  he  loved  singularity  any  better  than  we ;  that  he  was  more 
willing  to  oppose  his  fellow  creatures  ;  more  pleased  with  hatred 
and  persecution ;  or  less  sensible  to  the  stings  of  contempt  and 
derision.  But  he  looked  beyond  these  ;  and  saw  the  glory  of  his 
Maker,  his  duty  to  his  fellow-men,  and  the  salvation  of  his  own 
soul,  demanding  of  him  unalterable  resistance  to  this  host  of 
temptations.  To  the  eye  of  such  beings,  as  those,  whom  he  was 
compelled  to  address,  how  ridiculous  must  appear  his  prediction, 
and  much  more  his  belief,  of  an  approaching  deluge :  an  event 
absolutely  unheard  of  before  ;  so  contrary  to  all  the  acknowledg- 
ed laws  of  nature ;  for  w  hich  the  world  itself  did  not  contain  a 
sufficient  quantity  of  water;  for  which  then,  certainly,  there 
was  no  visible  preparation  ;  which  every  philosopher  of  the  day 
pronounced  to  be  impossible ;  and  the  arrival  of  which  the 
Prophet  himself  thought  proper  to  postpone  for  one  hundred 
and  twenty  years.  Why,  if  it  should  come  at  all,  did  it  not  come 
sooner.     It  was    true  Nooh  professed,  that  he  had  received  a 


SEE.  XXVIII.]  CHARACTER  OF  NOAH.  429 

Revelation  concerning  this  event  from  God  ;  but  who  could  ra- 
tionally believe  that  God  would  reveal  his  designs  to  him,  rather 
than  to  ten  thousand  other  persons,  in  every  point  of  view  as 
worthy  and  respectable,  and  in  many  much  more  so,  than  he 
was  ?  Could  it  be  supposed,  that  the  Creator  felt  such  a  partial- 
ity towards  him^  above  all  the  people  on  the  earth  ;  above  men 
far  greater,  wiser,  and  more  respected,  than  he  ?  Could  he  be 
weak  enough  to  imagine,  that  all  the  millions  of  the  human  race, 
beside  himself  and  his  family,  were  to  be  destroyed  ;  and  that 
they  were  to  be  snatched  from  the  destruction  ?  Surely  none 
but  the  most  pitiable  bigot,  the  most  hoodwinked  enthusiast,  the 
most  contemptible  fanatic,  could  give  credit  to  such  a  tale. 

When  he  began  to  build  the  ark,  and  thus  proved  himself  in 
earnest,  the  news  undoubtedly  flew  among  his  neighbours  with 
rapidity.  A  work  so  extraordinary,  begun  for  so  singular  a  pur- 
pose, must  unquestionably  have  excited  their  curiosity,  their  won- 
der, and  their  contempt,  in  the  highest  degree.  As  he  began  it 
fifty  years  before  the  predicted  period  of  the  deluge,  it  undoubt- 
edly seemed  a  ridiculous  anticipation  even  of  his  own  prophecy. 
As  it  demanded  the  expense  of  a  princely  fortune  ;  as  it  requi- 
red labour,  care,  and  trouble,  never  before  heard  of  in  the  world ; 
and  as  all  things  went  on  during  the  whole  time  just  as  quietly, 
as  they  had  always  done,  it  can  scarcely  be  doubted  that  he  was 
the  song,  the  jest,  the  by  word,  and  the  hissing,  of  all,  who  be- 
held him  busied  in  this  employment. 

But  the  faith  of  Noah  met,  endured,  and  triumphed  over,  all 
these  evils.  Such  always  in  kind,  and  sometimes  in  degree,  is 
the  faith  of  a  Christian. 

7thly.  The  preacher^  and  the  professor^  of  Religion  must  preachy 
and  live,  amidst  wicked  men  as  if  he  were  in  the  midst  of  Chris- 
tians. 

The  preacher  must  declare  the  truth,  whether  his  hearers  be- 
lieve or  disbelieve.  The  professor  must  perform  his  duty,  wheth- 
er others  follow  or  oppose  him.  Thus  Noah  preached  and  lived. 
Perhaps  no  herald  of  truth  was  ever  so  unsuccessful,  so  univer-ally 
disbelieved,  so  much  the  object  of  scorn  and  derision.     Probably 

Vol.  II.  55 


430  CONSIDERATIONS  ON  THE  [SER.  XXVIII 

no  saint  was  ever  so  destitute  of  companions  and  supporters. 
What  audiences  must  he  have  uniformly  found  ?  By  what  neigh- 
bours was  he  surrounded  ?  What  workmen  must  he  have  em- 
ployed ?  What  unbelief,  what  hostility,  what  contempt,  what 
mockery,  must  he  have  encountered  ?  How  must  he  have  been 
wearied  of  all  this  opposition  and  abuse,  protracted  through  one 
hundred  and  twenty  years  ?  Yet  he  "  set  his  face  as  a  flint"  against 
this  host  of  difficulties,  and  this  world  of  opposers.  No  enemy 
terrified  him,  no  difficulty  discouraged  him.  In  the  path  of  du- 
ty, the  straight  and  narrow  way  that  leads  to  life,  he  moved  on- 
ward with  immoveable  firmness,  and  unclouded  serenity.  God 
beheld  his  course,  and  smiled  upon  his  faith  and  fortitude  ;  sus- 
tained him  in  every  trial ;  and  in  every  conflict  enabled  him  to 
overcome. 

Noah  preached  the  revealed  will  of  God,  and  delivered  his 
Master's  message  faithfully.     The  most  painful  truths  he  hesita- 
ted not  to  declare :  the  most  terrible  threatenings  he  denounced 
in  all  their  awful  import.     The  wicked,  numerous  and  formidable 
as  they  were,  he  resolutely  warned  of  the  "  error  of  their  way;" 
and  although  they  did  not  "turn,  and  live,"  yet  "  he  delivered 
his  own  soul."     Such  will  be  the  preaching  of  every  faithful  min- 
ister of  Christ.     Like  Noah,  he  will  boldly  declare  "  the  truth,  as 
it  is  in  Jesus  ;"  and  declare  it  in  its  purity  and  simplicity,  "wheth- 
er they  win  hear,  or  whether  they  will  forbear."     Afl  Christians, 
also,  will  live  in  some  good  measure,  as  Noah  lived.     Their  faith 
is  the  same  with  his :  their  fortitude  will  resemble  his.     All  of 
them  will  not,  indeed,  be  equally  firm  and  faithful ;  equally  se- 
cure at  all  times  from  the  influence  of  temptation,  and  the  dan- 
ger of  backsliding.     Still  they  will  "  endure  unto  the  end  ;"  and 
under  the  influence  of  the  Spirit,  by  whom  they  are  sanctified, 
and  sustained,  and  with  a  consciousness,  that  "  the  afflictions  of 
the  present  life  are  not  worthy  to  be  compared  with  the  glory, 
which  shall  be  revealed  hereafter,"  will  fix  their  eyes  upon  God,  ' 
the  promises  of  the  Gospel,  and  the  blessings  of  immortality ; 
and  while  they  "  wait  upon  the  Lord,  will  renew  their  strength ; 
will  mount  up  with  wings,  as  eagles ;  will  run,  and  not  be  weary; 
will  walk,  and  not  faint." 


sER.  XXVIIL]  CHARACTER  OF  NOAH,  431 

Stilly.  Every  Christian,  however  long^  or  severely^  tried  in  the 
present  world,  is  here  taught,  that  his  interests  are  safe  in  the 
hands  of  God. 

The  trials  of  Noah  were  longer,  and  more  discouraging,  than 
those  of  any  Christian,  The  support,  the  consolation,  which  was 
furnished  to  him  by  the  objects  of  time  and  sense,  by  his  friends, 
or  by  mankind,  was  comparatively  nothing.  All  these  things 
were  against  him.  Even  his  own  preservation  was  in  many  res- 
pects forlorn  and  comfortless.  To  anticipate  the  ravages  of  an 
universal  deluge  was  a  most  melancholy  employment.  To  be- 
hold the  ruins  of  a  world  ;  to  be  an  eye-witness  of  the  destruction 
of  all  the  race  of  Adam  ;  to  ponder  the  perdition,  to  which  they 
were  consigned  in  a  future  state  of  being  ;  must  have  embittered 
deliverance  itself,  and  spread  gloom  over  his  own  merciful  pres- 
ervation. Still  Noah  himself  was  safe,  and  his  family  were  safe ; 
and  all  these  distressing  things  were  made  to  "  work  together 
for  their  good." 

There  are  seasons,  in  which  even  good  men  will  despond.  All 
the  waves  of  sorrow  will  seem  to  go  over  their  heads,  and  the 
anchor  of  hope  appear  to  lose  its  hold.  Health  will  at  times  be 
impaired ;  the  spirits  will  decay  :  friends  will  become  cold,  or 
die ;  the  means  of  support  will  recede,  or  vanish  ;  the  world  will 
become  peculiarly  hostile ;  Religion  will  decline ;  its  professors 
will  be  comparatively  few  and  lifeless ;  "  the  ways  of  Zion  will 
mourn  ;"  the  house  of  God  will  "  sit  solitary  ;"  and  its  glorious 
inhabitant  will  appear  to  have  withdrawn  his  presence  and  his 
mercy.  In  the  mean  time,  the  passions  and  appetites  of  the 
Christian  himself  will  regain  their  control  ;  the  world  will  recov- 
er its  ascendancy ;  his  energy  will  sicken  ;  and  his  piety  will 
sleep.  Yet  even  then  "  the  bruised  reed"  will  not  be  broken, 
nor  "  the  smoking  flax"  extinguished.  "  Fear  not,  thou  worm 
Jacob,  saith  Jehovah  that  created  thee  •,  fear  not ;  for  I  have  re- 
deemed thee.  I  have  called  thee  by  my  name :  thou  art  mine. 
When  thou  passest  through  the  waters,  I  will  be  with  thee ;  and 
through  the  rivers,  they  shall  not  overflow  thee  ;  when  thou  walk- 
€st  through^the  fire,  thou  shall  not  be  burned ;  neither  shall  the 


432  «ONSIDERATIONS,  &g.  [SER.  XXVIIL 

flame  kindle  upon  thee."  "  The  Spirit  of  the  Lord  God  is  upon 
me,"  saith  the  Saviour  of  men,  "  because  the  Lord  hath  anoint- 
ed me  to  preach  good  tidings  unto  the  meek ;  to  appoint  unto 
them,  who  mourn  in  Zion,  to  give  unto  them  beauty  for  ashes, 
the  oil  of  joy  for  mourning,  and  the  garment  of  praise  for  the 
spirit  of  heaviness ;  that  they  may  be  called  Trees  of  righteous- 
ness ;  The  planting  of  the  Lord  ;  that  he  may  be  glorified."  No 
child  of  God  is  so  hidden  from  the  eye,  so  imperfect  in  his  char- 
acter, or  of  so  little  value  in  his  sight,  as  to  prevent  him  from  be- 
ing known,  protected,  sustained,  and  conducted  finally  to  heaven. 
It  is  not  improbable,  that  amidst  all  his  sufferings  dangers  and 
discouragements,  amid  the  enemies,  by  whom  he  was  surrounded, 
and  the  hostilities,  which  he  was  daily  called  to  encounter,  the 
eminent  Saint,  whose  character  we  have  been  investigating,  was 
often  ready  to  despond,  and  to  feel  that  his  burden  was  greater 
than  he  could  bear.  Yet  he  was  safe  :  and  the  ruin,  which  over- 
whelmed a  world,  was  unable  to  reach  him.  His  case  is  that  of 
every  good  man.  Not  one  of  those,  who  wear  this  name  evan- 
gelically, will  ever  be  forgotten.  To  all  such  men  "  the  founda- 
tion of  God  standeth  sure,  and  has  this  seal.  The  Lord  knoweth 
them  that  are  his."  As  his,  they  will  be  conveyed  safely  through 
life  :  as  his,  they  will  be  supported  in  death  :  as  his,  they  will  be 
remembered  in  "  the  resurrection  of  the  just."  "  In  his  wrath  he 
may  smite  them  for  a  small  moment ;  but  with  everlasting  kind- 
ness will  he  have  mercy  on  them."  Amen. 


SERMON  XXIX. 


■^»   @    e* 

DUTY  OF  PREACHING  THE  GOSPEL. 
Galatians  i.  8,  9, 

iBut  though  loe,  or  an  Angel  from  Heaven,  preach  any  other 
{jiospel  unto  you,  than  that  which  we  have  preached  unto  you,  let 
him  he  accursed. 

As  we  said  before,  so  say  I  now  again  :  If  any  man  preach 
any  other  Gospel  unto  you,  than  that  ye  have  received,  let  him' be 
accursed. 

In  these  words,  we  have  St.  PauPs  estimate  of  the  Nature,  and 
Importance,  of  the  Gospel,  as  preached  by  himself.  Every  rea- 
der of  the  Scriptures  must  have  remarked  the  peculiar  force  of 
the  phraseology,  in  which  it  is  conveyed.  "  Even  if  we,  or  any 
man,  or  an  Angel  from  Heaven,  preach  any  other  Gospel,  than 
that  which  we  have  preached  unto  you  ;  let  him  be  anathema." 
Let  him  be  separated  from  the  church  on  earth  ;  let  him  finally 
be  separated  from  the  church  in  heaven.  A  crime,  on  which  so 
dreadful  a  sentence  is  pronounced,  must  certainly  be  enormous. 
On  what  is  this  enormity  founded  ?  On  the  nature  of  the  Gos- 
pel, preached  by  St.  Paul ;  the  authority,  with  which  it  was  com- 
municated to  mankind  ;  and  its  comparative  excellence,  when 
examined  with  relation  to  any  other  Gospel.  But  if  these  con- 
siderations lay  the  foundation  for  the  enormity  of  this  crime,  the 
Gospel,  preached  by  St.  Paul,  must  undoubtedly  be  possessed  of 
singular  and  superlative  excellence.  Our  time  cannot  be  unpro- 
fitably  employed  in  the  serious  consideration  of  a  subject,  so  in- 
teresting to  us  and  our  fellow  meu^ 


434  DUTY  OF  [SER.  XXIX 

The  supreme  importance  of  the  Gospel,  by  which  I  intend  the 
Scriptures  of  both  the  Old  and  New  Testaments,  may  be  exhibi- 
ted under  the  following  heads. 

I.  It  is  an  account  of  the  Designs,  and  the  Works,  of  Gov. 

By  these  I  intend  those  designs,  and  works,  which  are  of  pe- 
culiar importance  in  the  divine  system,  and  by  which  the  divine 
character  is  especially  manifested.  Such  are  the  Creation  of  the 
Universe  ;  the  Law,  by  which  it  is  governed  -,  the  great  Dispen- 
sations of  Providence  towards  the  race  of  Adam  ;  the  Establish- 
ment, and  Preservation,  of  the  Church  ;  the  Mediation  of  the 
Son  of  God  ;  the  Agency  of  the  Holy  Ghost  in  renewing  the  soul 
of  man  ;  the  General  Conversion  of  mankind  to  Christianity  ;  the 
Resurrection ;  the  Conflagration  ;  the  General  Judgment ;  and 
the  Final  Retribution.  These,  it  is  presumed,  will  be  readily  ac- 
knowledged to  be  in  the  number  of  those  designs,  and  works,  by 
which  the  character  of  the  Ruler  of  the  universe  is  especially  dis- 
played to  intelligent  creatures  ;  and  in  which  what  he  is  pleased 
to  term  his  Glory  is  peculiarly  exhibited.  The  importance  of 
these  Works  will  be  readily  acknowledged.  The  importance  of 
the  Gospel,  considered  as  a  Record  of  them,  is  visible  in  the  fol- 
lowing facts :  that  it  is  a  true  record,  and  therefore  exhibits  them 
as  they  are  ;  that  it  is  a  record,  dictated  by  infinite  wisdom,  and 
therefore  exhibits  them  in  the  wisest  and  best  manner ;  and  that, 
as  such  a  record,  it  possesses  the  power  of  spreading,  and  actual- 
ly spreads,  the  knowledge  of  them  through  periods  and  places,  re- 
mote from  those  in  which  they  exist. 

Some  of  these  things  took  place,  either  before,  or  during,  the 
several  ages,  in  which  the  Gospel  was  written.  These  it  pre- 
sents to  us  in  historical  narratives.  The  remaining  part  was,  at 
the  termination  of  the  sacred  canon,  and  to  a  great  extent  is  still, 
future.  The  several  things,  included  in  this  division  of  scriptural 
subjects,  it  presents  to  us  in  the  language  of  Prophecy. 

If  the  Gospel  had  not  been  written ;  all  these  wonderful,  and 
most  interesting,  things  would  have  been  concealed  from  the 
knowledge  of  almost  all  the  human  race,  during  their  continuance 
in  the  present  world.     Of  the  Creation  they  would  have  literally 


SER.  XXIX.]  PREACHING  THE  GOSPEL.  43^ 

known  nothing  ;  but,  as  in  the  past  ages  of  heathenism,  would, 
at  the  present  time,  have  been  employed  in  amusing  themselves 
with  dreaming  conjectures  about  this  wonderful  event;  or  in 
questioning,  with  Aristotle,  its  possibility ;  or  in  determining, 
with  Epicurus,  that  the  universe  was  formed  by  a  casual  con- 
course of  atoms.  Of  the  Deluge,  Noah  and  his  family  would 
have  had  the  only  knowledge,  possessed  by  man  :  while  the  great 
body  of  their  descendants  would  have  been  left,  for  all  their  ac- 
quaintance with  it,  to  doubtful,  vibrating  tradition.  To  the  same 
dubious  instruction  must  they  have  been  indebted  for  their  ap- 
prehensions concerning  the  Establishment  of  the  Church,  and 
concerning  all  the  successive  dispensations,  by  which  it  was  pre- 
served, distressed,  or  prospered,  down  to  the  days  of  the  apostles. 
Of  the  Redeemer  we  should  have  heard,  if  we  had  heard  at  all, 
in  some  such  manner,  as  we  have  heard  of  Pythagoras,  Zoroaster^ 
or  Confucius  ;  and  regarded  him  as  being,  like  them  severally,  the 
author  of  one  collection  of  reveries  in  the  region  of  conjectural 
philosophy.  Of  future  events  we  should  have  had  no  ideas  be- 
yond the  rovings  of  poetical  imagination. 

But  the  Gospel  brings  all  these  astonishing  subjects  to  the 
knowledge  of  distant  lands,  and  ages  ;  and,  interesting  and  amaz- 
ing as  the  works  and  designs  are  in  themselves,  gives  most  of 
them  their  real  consequence  to  the  great  body  of  mankind.  By 
its  aid  we  travel  back,  through  sixty  centuries,  to  the  period  when 
the  world  began  ;  and  become  eye  and  ear  witnesses  of  the  won- 
derful work  of  Creation.  We  behold  the  Maker  of  all  things  de- 
scending from  the  highest  heaven,  surrounded  with  infinite  glo- 
ry  ;  and  hear  his  voice  calling  into  being  the  formless  chaos  ;  the 
light  with  which  it  was  first  illumined,  and  the  firmament  by  which 
it  was  overspread,  as  by  an  immeasurable  curtain.  The  dry 
land,  and  the  ocean,  are  at  the  same  call  separated  before  us  : 
the  earth  is  instantaneously  clothed  with  the  verdure,  and  beau- 
ty, of  the  spring  :  and  both  are  peopled  with  millions  of  anima- 
ted beings,  fitted  to  enjoy  that  bounty,  which  supplies  "  the  wants 
of  every  living  thing."  We  behold,  also,  the  sun  lighted  up  ;  the 
moon  commencing  her  wandering  course  ;  and  myriads  of  star- 


43.G  DUTY  OF  [SER.  XXIX 

kindling  their  flames  in  the  heavens.  With  no  less  astonishment, 
we  see  man  rising  under  the  forming  hand  of  the  Creator  ;  and 
shewing  by  his  aspect,  that  he  is  animated  with  the  breath  of 
life,  and  "  inspired  by  the  Almighty  with  understanding."  Last 
of  all,  we  hear  the  voice  of  infinite  wisdom  pronouncing  the  vast 
work  to  be  "  very  good  ;"  and  listen  to  "  the  songs  of  the  morn- 
ing stars,  and  to  the  sons  of  God  shouting  for  joy,"  while  cele- 
brating that  glorious  sabbath,  which  concluded  the  divine  work, 
and  became  the  first  type  of  the  everlasting  sabbath  in  the  hea- 
vens. 

In  the  same  manned  do  we  become  witnesses  of  the  destruc- 
tion of  this  sinful  world  by  the  Deluge  ;  the  terrible  devastation 
of  the  cities  of  the  plain  by  a  tempest  of  fire  and  brimstone  ;  and 
the  overthrow  of  Egypt  by  signs  and  wonders,  successively  ad- 
vancing at  the  call  of  Moses.  We  accompany  the  Israelites  in 
their  march  through  the  Red  Sea  ;  station  ourselves  at  the  foot 
of  Sinai;  behold  the  mountain  compassed  with  a  flame  of  de- 
vouring fire  ;  and  tremble,  with  the  people  in  the  camp,  while, 
amid  the  thunders  and  lightnings,  God  promulges  with  his  own 
voice  the  Law,  which  controls  all  the  concerns  of  the  great  fami- 
ly of  Adam. 

With  the  same  guide,  we  enter  the  stable,  in  which  the  Son  of 
God  was  born  ;  and  see  him,  "  who  is  head  over  all  things  unto 
the  Church,"  wrapped  in  swaddling  clothes,  and  cradled  in  a 
manger.  Surrounded  by  the  shepherds  of  Bethlehem,  we  behold 
"  a  light  from  heaven  shining  suddenly  round  about  them  ;"  and 
hear  a  voice  from  that  happy  world,  proclaiming,  "  Fear  not. 
Behold  I  bring  you  glad  tidings  of  great  joy,  which  shall  be  unto 
all  people  !  For  unto  you  is  born,  this  day,  in  the  city  of  David, 
a  Saviour,  who  is  Christ,  the  Lord  !"  We  listen  to  "  a  multitude 
of  the  Heavenly  host,  praising  God,  and  saying,  Glory  to  God  in 
the  highest ;  and  on  earth  peace  :  good  will  towards  men."  We 
accompany  this  Divine  Person  through  his  private  life,  and  pub- 
lic ministry  ;  are  witnesses  of  his  baptism  and  miracles,  his  glo- 
rious wisdom  and  unspotted  holiness  ;  behold  in  silent  amaze- 
ment his  agony  in  the  garden  :  surround  him,  while  he  ascends 


SER.  XXIX.]  PREACHING  THE  GOSPEL.  437 

the  cross  ;  and  follow  him  to  the  tomb.  "  But  it  is  not  possible, 
that  he  should  be  holden  of  death."  An  angel  descends,  "and 
rolls  away  the  stone  from  the  sepulchre."  He  rises  triumphant, 
from  the  grave ;  ascends  through  the  visible  heavens,  and  finally 
vanishes  from  our  sight. 

On  the  wings  of  Prophecy,  we  adventure,  in  the  same  realizing 
manner,  into  the  immeasurable  regions  of  futurity ;  and  there 
listen  to  the  sound  of  the  last  trumpet,  and  the  voice  of  the  arch- 
angel, summoning  the  dead  to  life.  The  graves  open  :  the  earth, 
and  the  ocean,  return  the  innumerable  myriads,  slumbering  in 
their  recesses  :  the  Redeemer  descends  :  and  the  universe  of  an- 
gels andiof  men  is  doomed  to  its  final  retribution.  The  last  flames 
are  kindled  by  the  breath  of  the  Almighty  :  we  behold  "  the  earth 
.and  the  visible  heavens  flee  away ;  and  no  place  is  found  for 
them  any  more."  With  a  trembling  eye  we  cast  a  glance  to- 
wards the  melancholy  regions  of  darkness  and  sorrow,  destined 
to  receive  and  embosom  the  impenitent  workers  of  iniquity  :  and 
rise  with  ecstacy,  to  see  the  "  everlasting  gates"  of  life  and  im- 
mortality "  lift  up  their  heads,  that  the  King  of  glory  may  enter 
in,"  together  with  a  "  multitude"  of  his  happy  followers,  "  which 
no  man  can  number,  of  all  nations,  kindreds,  and  tongues."  We 
behold  them  surround  the  throne  of  the  majesty  in  the  heavens  ; 
and  hear  them  unite  their  harps  and  voices  in  the  eternal  song ; 
"  Blessing,  and  honour,  and  glory,  and  power,  be  unto  our  God, 
who  sitteth  on  the  throne,  and  unto  the  Lamb,  forever,  and  ever. 
Amen." 

Thus  the  Gospel  brings  the  earth  with  all  its  mighty  dispensa- 
tions, hell  with  its  amazing  terrors,  and  heaven  with  its  end- 
less glories,  before  our  eyes.  Thus  it  presents  God  to  us  in  all 
the  awful,  and  all  the  endearing,  displays  of  his  character.  It  is 
the  history  of  the  actions  of  Jehovah.  Without  it,  these  actions 
would  in  a  sense  be  nothing  to  us.  Too  distant  to  be  reahzed, 
too  obscure  to  be  discerned  with  clearness  or  certainty  ;  they 
would  be  unheeded  and  unknown.  This  divine  book  spreads  the 
knowledge  of  Jehovah  through  the  world.  It  is  the  temple,  in 
which  He  delights  to  dwell ;  the  mercy-seat,  from  which  He  gives 

Vol.  it.  5G 


438  DUTY  OF  [SER.  XXIX 

oracles  of  peace  to  enquiring  mankind.  The  race  of  Adam  arr 
the  congregation,  gathered  before  it,  to  ask  counsel  of  God  ; 
and  the  answers  are  given,  not  to  a  single,  solitary  tribe,  but  to 
the  universe  of  man. 

II.  The  Gospel  contains  the  will  of  God  concerning  our  duty 
and  salvation. 

Here,  and  here  alone,  we  find  the  immutable  and  eternal  Law, 
by  which  intelligent  beings  are  governed.  It  is  comprised  in 
these  two  great  commands :  "  Thou  shalt  love  the  Lord  thy  God. 
with  all  thy  heart,  and  with  all  thy  soul,  and  with  all  thy  strength, 
and  with  all  thine  understanding :  and  thou  shalt  love  thy  neigh- 
bour as  thyself."  These  wonderful  precepts  bear  on  tlieir  very 
face  the  stamp  of  divinity.  They  are  so  short  and  so  plain,  as 
to  be  easily  understood,  remembered,  and  applied  to  his  own  cir- 
cumstances, by  every  intelligent  creature  ;  and  so  comprehensive, 
as  to  include  within  their  grasp  all  rational  beings,  and  all  the 
endless  variety  of  their  thoughts,  words,  and  actions,  and  to  con- 
trol alike  the  child  and  the  seraph.  Every  duty  is  required  b) 
them  :  every  sin  is  forbidden. 

This  holy  and  perfect  Law  we  violated  ;  and  thus  apostatized 
from  our  duty  to  God,  and  lost  every  hope  of  his  favour.  To 
man  in  this  situation  the  Gospel  publishes  the  will  of  God  con- 
cerning our  Restoration  to  that  favour ;  prescribing  the  duties  to 
be  performed,  and  the  means  to  be  employed,  for  this  all  impor- 
tant purpose.  This  will,  in  both  cases,  is  alike  the  will  of  Jeho- 
vah ;  invested  with  infinite  authority,  and  excluding  all  interfer- 
ence on  the  part  of  men  or  angels.  Every  addition  to  it,  every 
variation  from  it,  "  is  strange  fire,  which  the  Lord  hath  not  com- 
manded." The  authors  of  it  are  the  progeny  of  Nadab  and 
Abihu  :  and  neither  their  sacrifice,  when  burnt  with  this  fire,  nor 
their  persons,  when  employed  in  kindling  it,  can  be  accepted  of 
Goo. 

III.  The  Gospel  proposes  as  its  great  object  the  most  valuable 
of  all  Ends  to  'man ;  the  sahation  of  the  soul. 

The  soul  of  man  is  an  Intelligent  and  Moral  Existence,  made 
capable  of  knowing,  loving,  and  serving  his  Creator.     In  its  own 


iER.  XXIX.]  PREACHING  THE  GOSPEL.  139 

nature  it  is  immortal.  It  will,  therefore,  survive  the  ruins  of  the 
world,  and  the  ravages  of  time;  and  will  flourish  with  indestruct- 
ible vigour,  when  "  the  heavens  shall  be  no  more."  In  this 
world  both  its  enjoyments  and  sufferings  are  mingled,  and  partial. 
Beyond  the  grave,  it  will  be  only  miserable,  or  only  happy ;  and 
both  the  happiness  and  misery  will  continue  forever. 

But  its  happiness  will  not  be  merely  eternal.  As  its  knowledge 
increases,  its  virtue  will  become  more  exalted,  and  its  enjoyment 
more  intense,  throughout  the  boundless  ages  of  its  existence. 
There  is  no  limit,  which  it  will  not  ultimately  reach  :  there  is  no 
finite  elevation,  to  which  it  will  not  ultimately  ascend.  Think, 
to  what  a  mass  of  guilt,  and  woe,  endless  sin  and  endless  misery 
will  amount.  Think  what  an  accumulation  of  happiness,  what 
splendour  of  virtue,  will  adorn  the  ever-growing  progress  of  a 
sanctified  mind.  How  plainly  will  the  former  exceed  all  that  has 
been  suffered  by  this  sinning  world  ?  How  soon  will  the  latter 
leave  out  of  sight  the  whole  assemblage  of  virtues,  the  whole 
combined  enjoyment  found  beneath  the  sun.  From  these  pre- 
mises it  is  irresistibly  concluded,  that  the  worth  of  the  soul  is  ht- 
erally  boundless.  Accordingly,  He,  "  who  is  the  brightness  of 
the  Father's  glory,  and  the  express  image  of  his  person,  who  of 
old  laid  the  foundations  of  the  earth,  and  garnished  the  heav- 
ens," yet  to  save  the  soul  "  from  going  down  to  the  pit,"  volun- 
tarily "  emptied  himself"  of  his  external  glory  ;  "  took  upon  him 
the  form  of  a  servant ;  and  was  made  in  the  hkeness  of  men. 
And  being  found  in  fashion  as  a  man,  he  became  obedient  unto 
death ;  even  the  death  of  the  cross."  The  end  of  his  divine 
mission,  he  has  declared,  was  to  "  seek  and  save,  that  which  was 
lost."  Nay,  he  has  expressly  taught  us,  that  "  there  is  joy  in 
heaven  over  the  repentance"  and  recovery  of  one  lost  soul,  "more 
than  over  ninety  and  nine  just  persons,  who  need  no  repentance." 

For  the  same  divine  purpose,  the  Spirit  of  Grace  has  de- 
scended to  this  world,  to  renew  and  sanctify  the  soul  of  man, 
and  thus  complete  its  title  to  endless  life.  In  this  manner,  the 
Father  of  all  mercies,  who  "  gave  his  Son  to  die,"  that  we  might 
hve,  and  sent  his  Spirit,  to  renew  us,  that  we  might  become  ob= 


440  DUTY  OF  [SER.  XXIX. 

jects  of  his  complacency,  and  heirs  of  his  eternal  kingdom  ;  has 
set  his  seal  upon  the  worth  of  the  soul ;  and  declared  it  to  pos- 
sess a  value,  which  no  numbers  can  estimate. 

But  all  the  worth  of  the  soul  is  involved  in  its  salvation.  In 
this  is  the  Father  pre-eminently  glorified.  In  th;s  is  the  object  of 
the  mediation  of  Christ,  and  of  the  mission  of  the  Divine  Spirit, 
illustriously  accomplished.  When,  therefore  the  Gospel  makes 
the  salvation  of  man  its  end ;  it  exhibits  itself  as  of  inestimable 
worth,  and  incomprehensible  excellence ;  as  a  favourite  work  of 
Wisdom  and  goodness,  literally  divine. 

IV.   The  Gospel  is  the  Means  of  accomplishing  this  end. 

Of  this  the  proof  is  complete.  Wherever  the  Gospel  has 
been  published,  and  embraced,  religion  has  existed,  and  prosper- 
ed. Wherever  the  Gospel  has  been  unknown,  religion  has  also 
been  unknown.  The  Gospel  is  the  rain  and  sun-shine  of  heaven 
upon  the  moral  world.  Wherever  its  beams  are  shed,  and  its 
showers  fall,  "  the  wilderness  blossoms  as  the  rose  ;  and  the  des- 
ert as  the  garden  of  God  :"  while  the  world  beside  is  an  Arabian 
waste,  where  no  fountains  flow,  and  no  verdure  springs ;  and 
where  life  itself  fades,  languishes,  and  expires.  The  Gospel  is 
all  these  means.  "  His  divine  power,"  saith  St.  Peter,  "  has  free- 
ly given  us  all  things,  which  pertain,"  or  are  necessary,  "  to  life 
and  godliness."  The  work  is  complete.  It  is  such  a  work,  as 
GoD  himself  thought  best  adapted  to  the  accomplishment  of  the 
glorious  end.  Accordingly,  man,  though  busily  employed  for  this 
purpose,  has  not,  throughout  the  long  period,  which  has  succee- 
ded the  publication  of  the  Gospel,  been  able  to  add  any  thing 
either  to  its  doctrines,  or  its  precepts.  It  may  be  asserted,  with- 
out hesitation,  or  hazard,  that  no  doctrine,  nor  precept,  of  human 
philosophy  has  ever  been  subsidiary  to  this  purpose,  or  contribu- 
ted in  a  single  instance,  or  in  the  least  degree,  to  the  salvation 
of  man.  The  philosophy  of  the  ancient  heathen  was  totally  des- 
titute even  of  the  semblance  of  piety  ;  the  first  and  great  ingre- 
dient of  virtue,  and  the  basis  of  all  other  virtue.  It  was,  there- 
fore, radically  lame,  and  fatally  defective.  Accordingly,  in  the 
opinion  of  Cicero  hnnself,  the  best  judge  of  this  subject,  perhaps, 


SER.  XXIX.]  PREACHING  THE  GOSPEL.  441 

whom  the  world  has  ever  seen,  it  never  reformed  either  the  phi- 
losophers themselves,  or  their  pupils  :  not,  as  this  great  man  ob- 
serves, in  a  single  instance.  Infidel  philosophy  has  been  still 
more  deficient  and  profligate.  All  that  has  been  better  in  it  has 
been  borrowed  from  the  Bible.  All  that  has  been  worse  has  flow- 
ed from  the  hearts  of  its  authors.  It  ought  to  be  added,  that 
neither  of  these  classes  has  laboured,  at  all,  to  promote  the  ref- 
ormation of  mankind  :  a  work  hitherto  confined  wholly  to  Christ, 
the  prophets,  the  apostles,  and  their  followers. 

From  these  observations  it  is  evident,  that  the  Gospel  is  ines- 
timably important  and  valuable.  It  is  "  the  wisdom  of  God,  and 
the  power  of  God,  unto  salvation."  It  is  a  divine  record  of  the 
Character,  and  Works,  of  the  Infinite  Mind  ;  of  those  works,  in 
which  that  Character  is  pre-eminently  displayed.  It  is  the  Will 
of  God,  and  his  whole  Will,  concerning  the  Duty,  and  Restora- 
tion, of  mankind.  The  End,  which  it  proposes,  and  accomplish- 
es, is  divine  :  and  the  Means,  which  it  furnishes  for  the  accom- 
plishment of  this  end,  are,  on  the  one  hand,  the  best  and  most 
efficacious,  and,  on  the  other,  supremely  honourable  in  their  na- 
ture to  the  wisdom  of  their  Author.  His  instructions  and  pre- 
cepts are  in  themselves  infinitely  excellent.  To  us,  as  the  means 
of  holiness,  and  as  guides  to  endless  life,  they  are  possessed  of  in- 
finite value. 

If  these  observations  convey  to  this  audience  the  same  evidence 
concerning  this  subject,  which  they  claim  in  my  own  mind  ;  it 
will  be  impossible  for  them  not  to  feel,  in  a  very  forcible  manner, 
the  declaration,  made  by  St.  Paul  in  the  text.  It  will  be  impos- 
sible for  you,  my  brethren,  not  to  feel,  that  the  Gospel  is  hallow- 
ed ground ;  and  not  to  ask,  "  What  man,  what  angel,  shall  dare 
to  intrude  upon  it,  unbidden,  unallowed,  of  his  Maker  ?  Who- 
ever enters  the  desk,  for  the  solemn  purpose  of  exploring  this  sa- 
cred field  ;  you  will  instinctively  say  to  him,  "  Take  thy  shoe  from 
oS  thy  foot :  for  the  place,  whereon  thou  standest,  is  holy."  The 
Gospel  is  the  temple  of  God  ;  into  the  courts  of  which  neither 
Jew,  nor  Gentile,  can  enter  without  the  permission  of  Him,  who 
has  consecrated  it  to  his  own  honour  and  worship  !     It  is  "  the 


442  DUTY  OF  [SER.  XXIX. 

Holy  of  Holies  ;"  the  peculiar  residence  of  Jehovah  himself! 
What  man,  what  angel,  shall  venture  into  this  awful  recess,  and 
place  himself  on  the  mercy-seat  by  the  side  of  his  Maker  ?  Who, 
with  a  still  more  desperate  madness,  if  madness  can  be  more  des- 
perate, shall  thrust  himself,  in  Jehovah's  stead,  into  the  bosom 
of  the  Shechinah  ;  and  thence  utter,  as  the  oracles  of  this  glori- 
ous Being,  the  presumptuous  dictates  of  his  own  reason,  and  the 
wretched  dreams  of  his  own  imagination  ? 

Suppose  an  Angel  engaged  in  this  impious  employment ;  and, 
shorn  of  all  his  piety,  glory  and  beauty,  already  commencing  the 
unnatural,  the  monstrous,  task  of  modelling  anew  the  Word  of 
God.  Of  what  nature,  we  ask,  are  his  instructions  to  be  ?  Shall 
he  change  the  Divine  Law  1  Shall  he  declare  to  mankind,  that 
they  shall  not,  henceforth,  "  love  the  Lord,  their  God,  with,  all 
their  heart ;  nor  their  neighbour  as  themselves  :"  and  thus  insti- 
tute a  new  rule  of  righteousness,  for  the  government  of  the  moral 
universe  ?  Shall  he  compound  a  new  kihd  of  virtue,  unknown, 
or  uncommanded,  of  his  God  ?  Will  he  bind  the  Creator  to  ap- 
prove, and  reward,  it  ?  Shall  he  adventure  still  farther ;  and 
change,  and  lessen,  the  Penalty  of  this  Law  ;  and  repeal  the 
curse,  which  it  denounces  against  transgressors  ?  Shall  he  pro- 
claim to  fallen  man  new  terms  of  Restoration  to  the  divine  fa- 
vour ?  Shall  he  say,  that  "  there  is  some  other  Name  under  Hea- 
ven, given  among  men,  whereby  they  must  be  saved  ?"  Shall  he 
say,  that  "  God  hath  not  set  forth  Christ  to  be  a  propitiation 
through  faith  in  his  blood;"  that  we  are  not  "justified  freely  by 
grace,  through  the  redemption  that  is  in  him  ;"  that  "  a  man" 
need  not  "be  born  again,''  in  order  to  "enter  into  the  kingdom 
of  God  ;"  that  "  by  works  of  righteousness,  which  we  have  done, 
he  saved  us  ;"  and  not  "  according  to  his  mercy,"  nor  "  by  the 
washing  of  regeneration,  and  the  renewing  of  the  Holy  Ghost  ?" 
Shall  he  declare,  that  "  he,  who  hath  begun  a  good  work  in  us, 
will  not  perform  it  unto  the  day  of  Christ  V 

To  what  end  would  he  declare  these  things  ?  And  what 
would  be  the  consequences  of  his  declarations  ?  Would  God 
jegard  them  ?     Would  he  hate  sin  less  ?    Would  he  punish  sin- 


SER.  XXIX.]  PREACHING  THE  GOSPEL.  443 

ners  with  less  severity  ?  Would  he  accept  them  on  easier  terms  '. 
He  has  declared,  that  "  heaven  and  earth  shall  sooner  pass  away, 
than  one  jot,  or  one  tittle,  of  the  law,"  by  which  sinners  are  tried, 
and  condemned,  "  shall  pass,  until  all  be  fulfilled."  Would  He 
annul,  would  he  change,  the  whole,  or  a  jot,  or  a  tittle,  of  it,  at 
the  bidding  of  a  creature  ? 

Should  we  be  profited  ?  Would  our  sins  be  more  easily  wash- 
ed away  ?  Would  our  souls  be  forgiven,  justified,  and  sanctifiedj 
on  easier  terms  ?  Would  our  escape  from  hell  be  rendered  more 
hopeful  ?  Would  the  doors  of  heaven  more  readily  open,  to  ad- 
mit unbelieving  and  impenitent  sinners  1  In  what  respect  would 
the  new  Law  render  our  condition  better  ;  our  hopes  brighter ; 
or  our  future  being  more  desirable  ? 

Would  not  the  Creator,  would  not  the  whole  virtuous  universe, 
exclaim  with  a  single  voice  ;  '•  Who  art  thou,  that  repiiest  against 
God  ?  Hast  thou  an  arm  like  God  ;  or  canst  thou  thunder  with 
a  voice  like  Him  ?  Wilt  thou  also  disannul  his  judgment  ?  Wilt 
thou  condemn  him,  that  thou  mayest  be  righteous  ?  Shall  he 
that  contendeth  with  the  Almighty  instruct  Him  ?  He  that  re- 
proveth  God,  let  him  answer  it."  Would  they  not  ask  with  in- 
dignation, "  Canst  thou  by  searching  find  out  God  ?  Canst  thou 
find  out  the  Almighty  unto  perfection  ?  It  is  high  as  heaven, 
what  canst  thou  do ;  deeper  than  hell,  what  canst  thou  know  ? 
The  measure  thereof  is  longer  than  the  earth,  and  broader  than 
the  sea." 

If  an  angel  could  not  change  the  Gospel  in  these  mighty  par- 
ticulars ;  could  he,  with  more  success,  alter  it  in  others  ?  The 
Record,  which  it  contains  of  the  Divine  conduct,  is  now  true. 
Shall  an  Angel  be  employed  in  falsifying  it  ?  Those  actions  of 
the  Creator  are  now  recorded,  which  Infinite  Wisdom  thought 
proper  to  select.  Shall  an  Angel  erase  them  ;  and  substitute 
others  in  their  stead  ? 

Or  shall  he  with  a  daring  hand  efface  the  Prophecies,  contain- 
ed in  this  sacred  volume  ?  There  was  a  period,  in  which  an  An- 
gel exclaimed  in  the  heavens,  "  Who  is  worthy  to  open  the  Book," 
containing  the  future  designs  of  Jehovah,  "  and  to  loose  the 


444  DUTY  OF  [SER.  XXIX 

seals  thereof?"  There  was  a  period,  when  it  was  answered,  that 
"  no  one  in  heaven,  nor  in  earth,  nor  under  the  earth,  was  able 
to  open  the  book,  neither  to  look  thereon."  There  was  a  period, 
when  heaven  resounded  with  hymns  of  exultation  and  rapture, 
because  the  "  Lamb,  who  is  in  the  midst  of  the  throne,"  assumed 
this  stupendous  office ;  opened  the  book ;  and  loosed  its  seven 
seals.  Is  any  Angel,  at  the  present  time,  more  able,  or  more 
worthy,  to  understand,  or  unfold,  the  designs  of  his  Maker  ? 

Finally.  Shall  the  angel  in  question  undertake  to  correct  the 
Words,  which  the  Wisdom  of  God  has  chosen,  for  the  purpose  of 
communicating  his  pleasure ;  substitute  for  them  new  and  better 
phraseology ;  call  in  question  their  propriety  ;  change  their  real 
and  obvious  meaning;  and  make  them  speak  what  was  never 
intended  by  their  Author  ?  Shall  he  thus  sit  as  a  critic  on  his  Ma- 
ker;  review  his  works  ;  and  pronounce  an  authoritative  judgment 
concerning  the  truth  or  the  erroneousness,  the  wisdom  or  the  folly, 
the  beauty  or  the  deformity  of  that,  which  has  been  written  by 
the  finger  of  God  ? 

There  was  a  time,  when  even  Angels  fell ;  and  fell,  by  aspiring 
to  the  prerogatives  of  God.  The  attempt  changed  them  into 
fiends ;  and  hurried  them  down  from  heaven  into  the  regions  of 
darkness  and  despair.  Such  an  effort  can  never  be  made  in  that 
glorious  world,  a  second  time.  Among  all  the  exalted  beings, 
who  inhabit  it,  there  is  not  one,  who  would  not  be  filled  with  hor- 
ror at  the  bare  thought  of  thus  ascending  the  throne  of  God, 
and  snatching  the  sceptre  out  of  his  hand.  A  single  wish  of  this 
nature  would  extinguish  forever  the  immortal  beauty  of  his  char- 
acter ;  shroud  in  eternal  darkness  his  glorious  destinies ;  and 
change  the  heaven  within  him  into  a  hell. 

But,  my  brethren,  if  an  Angel  may  not  intrude  upon  this  awful 
employment,  how  much  more  unbecoming,  preposterous,  and 
profane,  must  be  the  intrusion  of  Man.  Angels  were  originally 
possessed  of  vast  powers,  and  the  noblest  opportunities  for  im- 
proving them.  They  were  brought  into  existence  in  the  highest 
heavens ;  have  from  the  beginning  surrounded  the  throne,  and 
stood  in  the  presence  of  God  ;  and  for  many  thousand  years  have 


SER.  XXIX.]  PREACHING  THE  GOSPEL.  445 

executed  the  pleasure,  studied  the  works,  and  learned  the  char- 
acter of  their  Maker.  Their  minds,  therefore,  great  and  exalted 
at  first,  have  been  wonderfully  expanded  and  ennobled  during 
this  long  succession  of  ages.  Their  dispositions,  at  the  same 
time,  are  conformed  to  the  dictates  of  perfect  rectitude  ;  and 
are  fitted,  therefore,  to  advance  in  the  acquisition  of  knowledge 
and  wisdom,  with  unrivalled  celerity.  Their  application,  also, 
neither  sleep,  nor  weakness,  nor  weariness,  interrupts.  Their 
energy,  neither  age  nor  activity  can  lessen. 

Men,  on  the  contrary,  are  of  yesterday  ;  the  offspring  of  dust ; 
and  allied  to  worms,  and  corruption.  Their  faculties  are  feeble  ; 
their  knowledge  stinted;  their  dispositions  alienated  from  truth; 
and  their  views  darkened  by  prejudice  and  passion.  To  them 
error  is  congenial,  and  sin  an  object  of  choice.  How  impudent, 
how  absurd,  how  monstrous  then,  must  such  a  being  appear, 
when  thrusting  himself  into  the  province  of  his  Maker,  and  dic- 
tating another-  Gospel  to  mankind.  There  have,  however,  been 
those  among  our  iT§pe,  who,  in  the  early  days  of  the  church,  as- 
sumed this  office  in  form  ;  and  boldly  wrote,  and  published, 
"  other  Gospels,"  than  those  written  by  the  Evangelists.  The 
period  of  these  forgeries  is  long  since  past.  But  modern  times 
have  furnished  many  proofs  of  the  spirit  by  which  they  were 
dictated. 

There  are  two  modes,  in  which  a  Gospel  may  be  preached,  dif- 
fering essentially  from  that  of  Paul  The  words  may  be  chang' 
ed,  and,  tog-ether  with  them,  the  doctrines,  and  precepts  ;  or  the 
doctrines,  and  precepts,  may  be  changed;  lohile  the  words  are 
permitted  to  continue  the  same.  The  Gospel  is  the  true  meaning 
of  the  Gospel;  not  the  terms,  in  which  it  is  written.  The  words 
may  be  considerably  varied,  and  yet  the  meaning  not  be  altered  ; 
and  are  valuable,  only  because  they  express  and  preserve  that 
meaning.  The  preachers  of  modern  times  have  not,  in  any 
great  degree  attempted,  as  plainly  they  could  not  attempt  with 
any  hope  of  success,  to  change  the  words  of  the  Gospel.  All 
their  wishes  to  substitute  another  Gospel  for  that  which  came 
from  heaven,  have  terminated  in  efforts  to  change  the  meaning 

Vol.  IL  57 


446  DUTY  OF  [SER.  XXIX, 

of  its  doctrines  and  precepts.     Of  these  efforts,  at  the  present 
time,  there  is  certainly  no  scarcity. 

The  preacher,  who  forms  and  expresses  different  views  of  the 
Character,  Law,  and  Government,  of  God  ;  of  the  Character, 
and  Mediation  of  Christ ;  and  of  the  Terms  of  salvation  ;  from 
those,  which  are  presented  to  us  in  the  Scriptures,  preaches  a 
Gospel,  differing  just  so  far  from  that  of  St.  Paul.  If  his  views 
of  these  subjects  are  essentially  different  from  those  exhibited  in 
the  Scriptures  ;  his  Gospel  will  be  essentially  different ;  because 
these  are  the  fundamental  subjects  of  revelation.  If,  for  exam- 
ple, the  Scriptures  declare  the  Character,  and  Law,  of  God  to 
be  perfect:  if  they  assert,  that  "  he  worketh  all  things  after  the 
counsel  of  his  own  Will ;"  and  that  "  every  one,  who  continueth 
not  in  all  things,  written  in  the  book  of  the  law  to  do  them,  is  ac- 
cursed :"  if  they  declare  Christ  to  be  "  God  over  all  things,  and 
blessed  forever,"  and  to  be  the  Creator,  Preserver,  Proprietor, 
Ruler,  and  Judge,  of  the  Universe  :  if  they  testify  that  "  except 
we  repent,  we  shall  all  perish  ;""  that  "  he  who  l^^lieveth''  on  Christ, 
with  the  faith,  which  "  worketh  by  l<jve,  shall  be  saved ;"  and 
that  "  he,  who  believeth  not,  shall  be  condemned  ;"  that  "  we  are 
justified  by  grace,  through  faith  in  the  Redeemer ;"  that,  unless 
"  we  are  born  again  of  the  Spirit  of  God,  we  cannot  enter  into 
his  kingdom  ;"  and  that  without  the  love,  required  by  the  divine 
law,  we  are,  in  the  spiritual  sense,  nothing :  then  the  preacher, 
who  contradicts  these  declarations,  or,  in  other  words,  exhibits 
doctrines,  and  precepts,  opposed  to  these,  preaches  another  Gos- 
pel, than  that  of  Paul. 

But,  my  brethren,  this  work  is  not  always  done  in  a  manner  so 
complete.  In  far  the  greater  number  of  instances  it  is  partially 
done.  Many  preachers  reject  parts  of  the  Gospel ;  and  receive 
other  parts.  Some  profess  to  relish  the  precepts,  who  yet  find 
much  difficulty  in  admitting  the  doctrines.  Some  contend  earn- 
estly for  the  doctrines,  who  seem  to  have  little  relish  for  the  pre- 
cepts. By  inculcating  one  of  these  classes  of  scriptural  commu- 
nications, and  neglecting  the  other,  the  preacher,  by  degrees,  im- 
presses on  the  minds  of  his  congregation,  more  forcibly  than  he 


S;ER.  XXIX. ]  PREACHING  THE  GOSPEL.  447 

could  easily  do  in  any  other  manner,  a  conviction,  that  tliat, 
which  he  neglects^  is  of  no  serious  importance.  In  this  way,  a 
multitude  of  preachers  persuade  those,  who  hear  them,  that  the 
doctrines  of  the  Gospel  deserve  little  attention ;  and  another 
multitude,  that  the  precepts  are  of  the  same  insignificant  char- 
acter. 

Another  set  of  preachers,  of  which  the  present  period  may 
boast  its  full  share,  enter  the  desk,  to  exhibit  themselves.,  if  we 
may  be  permitted  to  judge,  rather  than  the  Gospel.  These  men 
are,  frequently,  not  deficient  with  respect  to  their  orthodoxy  ;  and 
trespass  in  the  Manner^  and  the  End,  of  their  preaching  more 
than  in  their  doctrines,  or  precepts.  The  End,  which  they  ap- 
pear to  propose,  is  the  display  of  their  talents,  for  the  entertain- 
ment of  their  hearers.  The  Manner,  in  which  they  attempt  to 
accomplish  this  end,  h  n^WiiWy  ^oxmQd  oi  metaphysical  disquisi- 
tions ;  or  brilliant  appeals  to  the  imagination,  and  powerful  ad- 
dresses to  the  passions.  That  Ministers  should  employ  the  whole 
energy  of  reason,  fancy,  and  feeling,  to  elucidate  divine  truth  to 
the  understanding,  and  to  impress  it  on  the  heart,  is  not  only  al- 
lowed, but,  in  my  apprehension,  demanded,  by  the  Scriptures. 
The  hearer,  to  vt^hora  the  doctrines  and  duties  of  the  Gospel  are 
not  exhibited  in  a  clear  manner,  and  proved  by  solid  argument, 
will  never  be  stable  in  his  belief,  nor  in  his  practice  ;  will  easily 
be  driven  about  by  every  wind  of  doctrine  ;  and  become,  regu- 
larly, a  prey  to  every  specious  sectary.  The  Truth  of  God,  only, 
can  make  men  free  from  the  bondage  of  sin.  But,  to  produce 
this  effect ;  it  must  be  shown,  and  seen,  to  be  truth.  This  must 
be  done  by  the  clear  light,  and  sound  reasonings,  of  common 
sense,  obvious  to  the  general  apprehension,  and  incomparably 
more  satisfactory  than  those  nice  and  subtile  discriminations, 
which,  invisible  to  the  common  eye,  serve  only  to  display  the 
preacher's  ingenuity,  and  to  excite  popular  applause. 

He  also,  who  is  taught  only  to  understand,  and  not  to  feel,  the 
truths  of  the  Gospel,  however  rational  and  just  may  be  his  views, 
will  ever  be  in  danger  of  regarding  those  truths  with  a  cold  as- 
sent, and  stupid  indifference.     To  prevent  this  incalculable  evil. 


448  DUTV  OF  [SER.  XXIX. 

no  method  ought  to  be  left  untried,  to  quicken  tiie  apprehension, 
rouse  the  conscience,  and  move  the  heart.  Of  these  two  great 
constituents  of  Evangelical  Preaching  the  apostles,  particularly 
Paul,  have  left  us  the  most  honourable  examples. 

But,  when  the  object  of  a  Preacher  is  to  exhibit  himself  with 
advantage,  he  will  reason,  not  to  make  his  hearers  understand 
the  truth  of  God,  but  to  make  them  admire  his  own  powers  of 
reasoning ;  will  cull  fine  images  of  fancy,  and  pour  out  warm 
effusions  of  feeling,  not  to  render  the  truth,  which  he  preaches, 
pungent  and  efiicacious,  but  to  command  applause  for  his  bril- 
liancy, and  eloquence.  In  both  these  cases,  the  preacher  be- 
comes an  Actor  ;  and  his  sermons  a  mere  amusement  for  the  day. 
This,  to  say  the  least,  is  not  to  preach  as  Paul  preached.  His 
Gospel  was  formed,  wholly,  to  instruct,  convince,  awaken,  and 
convert,  sinners :  a  work,  which,  I  am  afraid,  is  not  to  be  hoped 
from  either  of  the  modes  of  preaching,  which  have  been  here  rep- 
rehended. 

The  doctrines  of  the  Gospel  are  painful,  the  precepts  of  the 
Gospel  are  burdensome,  to  unrenewed  men  :  for  both  contradict 
their  wishes,  awaken  their  consciences,  and  excite  the  most 
alarming  apprehensions  concerning  their  future  destiny.  Still 
they  are  the  doctrines  and  precepts  of  God.  Of  course,  they 
are  true,  and  right.  It  is  therefore  your  duty,  my  brethren,  to  be 
willing,  to  be  desirous,  that  Ministers  should  preach  them  to  you. 
You  are  not  permitted  by  your  Maker  to  have  itching  ears.  You 
are  not  permitted  to  "  heap  to  yourselves  teachers  after  your  own 
lusts."  You  may  not  refuse  to  endure  sound  doctrine.  You 
may  not  "  turn  away  your  ears  from  the  truth,  nor  be  turned  unto 
fables."  You  cannot  lawfully,  you  cannot  safely,  "  say  to  the 
seers,  '  See  not,'  and  to  the  prophets,  '  Prophesy  not  unto  us 
right  things  :  speak  unto  us  smooth  things  ;  prophesy  deceits.'  " 
"  Get  ye  out  of  the  way  ;  turn  aside  out  of  the  path  ;  cause  the 
Holy  One  of  Israel  to  cease  from  before  us."  As  they  are  bound 
to  speak  the  truth  ;  you  are  under  the  same  solemn,  and  indis- 
pensable obligations  to  receive  and  welcome,  to  believe  and  obey, 
every  thing  which  they  preach,  so  far  as  it  was  preached  by  Paul 


SEE.  XXIX.]  PREACHING  THE  GOSPEL.  449 

It  may  indeed  contradict,  not  unfrequently,  your  former  opinions, 
as  well  as  your  present  wishes.  Should  this  be  the  fact,  those 
wishes  are  wrong,  and  those  opinions  false.  But  false  opinions 
and  wrong  wishes  can  never  adA'ance  you  a  step  towards  heaven. 
The  only  effect  of  both  will  be  your  ruin.  "  To  the  law,  then, 
and  to  the  testimony."  If  Ministers  do  not  speak,  if  you  do  not 
believe,  this  word  ;  it  is  because  there  is  no  light  in  them,  nor  in 
you. 

Were  an  Angel  from  heaven  to  bring  you  a  message  from  your 
Creator ;  were  he  to  come  with  the  splendour,  in  which  one  of 
these  glorious  beings  exhibited  himself  to  the  prophet  Daniel ; 
"  his  loins  girded  with  the  fine  gold  of  Uphaz,  his  body  like  the 
beryl,  his  face  as  the  appearance  of  lightning,  his  eyes  as  lamps 
of  fire,  his  feet  as  polished  brass,  and  the  voice  of  his  words  as 
the  voice  of  a  multitude :"  you  would  probably  quake  like  the 
companions  of  Daniel,  "  and  flee  to  hide  yourselves ;"  or,  like 
the  prophet  himself,  would  stand  trembling ;  your  strength  van- 
ished, "  and  your  comehness  turned  into  corruption."  If  you 
should  be  able  to  command  yourselves  sufficiently  to  hear  his 
message ;  with  what  solemn  attention,  with  what  profound  awe, 
with  what  eager  solicitude,  would  you  listen  to  the  heavenly  mes- 
senger, and  catch  every  word  which  fell  from  his  tongue."  Which 
of  you  would  dispute  his  doctrines?  Which  of  you  would  ques- 
tion his  precepts  1  Is  there  a  man  in  this  assembly,  who  would 
insult  the  divine  herald  by  telling  him,  that  his  declarations  did 
not  harmonize  with  the  decisions  of  human  philosophy ;  that 
they  were  hard  sayings,  gloomy  and  discouraging  in  their  nature, 
and  terrible  in  their  import  ?  Is  there  an  individual,  who  would 
reply,  that  great  and  learned  men  had  thought  differently  from 
him ;  or  who  would  satisfy  even  himself  in  refusing  to  obey  the 
voice  of  this  wonderful  preacher  by  recollecting,  that  he  was 
contradicted  by  Hume  and  Voltaire,  by  Arius  and  Socinus  ? 

Is  there  a  person  present,  who  would  feel  himself  justified  in 
declining,  or  neglecting,  to  comply  with  the  precepts  brought  by 
this  illustrious  being,  until  a  future  and  more  "  convenient  sea- 
son ?"  Should  he  command  you  "  now  to  repent,  and  believe  the 


450  DUTY  OF  [SER.  XXIX. 

Gospel ;"  would  you  not  feel,  that  you  were  indispensably,  bound 
to  obey?  should  he  require  you  now  to  "love  the  Lord,  your  God, 
with  all  the  heart,  and  your  neighbour  as  yourselves  ;"  would  you 
feel  excused,  in  prolonging  your  impiety,  or  your  injustice  ;  your 
avarice,  ambition,  or  sensuality  ?  Should  he  announce  the  Mes- 
siah as  your  Saviour,  as  the  only  "  propitiation  for  the  sins"  of 
men  ;  and  require  you  "  with  the  heart  to  believe"  in  him  "  unto 
righteousness,  and  with  the  mouth"  to  make  "  confession"  of  him 
"  unto  salvation  ;"  could  you  feel  any  longer  safe  in  your  unbe- 
lief, or  your  refusal  to  "  confess  Christ  before  men  ?"  My  breth- 
ren, Angels  have  actually  declared,  in  substance,  all  these  things 
to  mankind.  The  "  Law  was  given  by  the  disposition  of  Angels  ;" 
and  Angels  announced  the  Redeemer  to  Daniel  and  Zechariah, 
to  Joseph,  Mary,  and  the  shepherds  of  Bethlehem.  x 

Convey  yourselves  in  imagination  to  yonder  burying  ground. 
Behold  the  earth  heave  beneath  your  feet,  the  grave  unfold  its 
secret  chambers,  and  a  white-robed  inhabitant  of  the  unseen 
world  ascend  before  your  eyes  from  its  silent  recesses.  Hear  him 
proclaim  to  you,  alternately,  awful  and  delightful  tidings  of  heav- 
en and  hell ;  and  inform  you,  that  within  a  few  years  you  will 
inhabit  one  or  the  other  of  these  worlds  of  retribution,  and 
spend  your  immortal  being  in  unutterable  happiness  or  misery. 
Listen,  while  he  subjoins  the  most  affecting  admonitions  concern- 
ing your  guilt  and  your  danger  ;  and  warns  you  to  "  flee  from  the 
wrath  to  come,"  and  to  "  lay  hold  on  eternal  life."  Can  you  be 
insensible  to  the  persuasions  of  the  awful  stranger  ?  Can  you 
sport,  or  wander,  or  sleep,  beneath  the  sound  of  a  voice,  which 
addresses  you  from  the  tomb?  My  Brethren,  the  Gospel  was,  in 
substance,  all  declared  by  one  "  who  rose  from  the  dead."  These 
very  tidings  he  brought  from  the  invisible  world.  These  very  ad- 
monitions, these  very  exhortations,  he  now  addresses  to  you  from 
heaven ;  and  repeats  them  every  day  you  live. 

Remember,  my  brethren,  I  intreat  you  to  remember,  that  nei- 
ther the  glory  and  majesty  of  an  Angel,  nor  the  awful  character, 
and  alarming  appendages,  of  a  person  rising  from  the  grave, 
could  change  at  all  the  nature  or  the  importance  of  the  message. 


SER.  XXIX.]  PREACHING  THE  GOSPEL.  451 

which  either  might  bring  to  you.  These  beings,  I  acknowledge, 
would  probably  deeply  effect  and  terrify  you.  Still,  the  mes- 
sage, which  they  would  bring,  and  the  God,  by  whom  they  were 
sent,  would  alone  be  the  objects,  supremely  and  finally  interest- 
ing to  you.  This  message  you  now  have,  sent  by  the  same  God, 
from  whom  they  must  both  derive  their  commission.  He  has  di- 
rected,  that  it  shall  be  weekly  delivered  to  you  by  your  fellow 
men  ;  men,  not  risen  from  the  grave,  but  sharing  the  same  life, 
and  the  same  infirmities,  with  yourselves.  Still,  it  is  no  less  a 
message  from  him,  no  less  clothed  with  his  authority,  no  less  in- 
teresting to  your  eternal  welfare.  Your  Minister  is  obliged  to 
deliver  it  exactly  as  he  has  received  it,  "  whether  you  will  hear, 
or  whether  you  will  forbear."  You  by  the  same  authority  are 
obliged  to  embrace  and  obey  it ;  and  can  refuse,  or  neglect,  it 
only  at  your  peril.  The  terrible  aneithema,  pronounced  against 
him,  or  against  an  Angel,  should  either  preach  any  other  Gospel, 
will  be  pronounced  against  you,  if  you  do  not  welcome  it  in  your 
hearts,  and  fulfil  its  precepts  in  your  lives. 

There  is  a  day  approaching,  in  which  you,  and  all  other  con- 
gregations, and  their  Ministers,  will  meet  together  before  "  the 
Judge  of  the  quick  and  the  dead  !"  How  solemn,  how  affecting, 
must  be  this  interview  !  How  transcendantly  important  will  then 
appear  the  connection,  which,  in  this  world,  has  existed  between 
Ministers  and  their  people  !  Every  Minister  is  here  constituted  by 
Christ  the  shepherd  of  his  flock,  "  to  watch  for  their  souls,  as  one 
that  must  give  an  account ;"  to  feed  them  with  tlie  bread  of  hfe; 
and  to  conduct  them  through  this  wilderness  to  the  regions  of 
everlasting  rest !  They  are  committed  to  him  by  the  same  Di- 
vine Person  ;  that,  under  his  pastoral  care  and  guidance,  they 
may  direct  their  path  to  the  kingdom  above  !  How  important 
will  it  then  appear,  that  these  divine  purposes  should  have  been 
accomplished  ?  No  emotions  will  be  more  intense,  than  those, 
which  this  last,  solemn  meeting  will  produce.  The  day,  the 
scene,  the  Judge,  the  assembly,  the  trial,  the  sentence,  togeiher 
with  its  affecting  grounds,  and  amazing  consequences,  will  lend 
it  a  force  and  distinction  immensely  great  and  awful !     What 


452  ;DUTY  of  preaching  the  gospel.         [SER.  XXIX. 

emotions  must  move  the  heart  of  that  Minister,  who,  surround- 
ed by  his  own  flock,  is  compelied  to  declare  to  the  Judge  of 
all  the  earth,  that  he  has  preached  another  Gospel,  than  that 
which  was  preached  by  Paul  ;  that  he  has  neglected,  withheld, 
and  falsified,  the  Truth  of  God  ;  that  he  has  substituted,  in  its 
place,  his  own  dogmas,  speculations,  and  wishes  ;  that  he  has 
deceived,  misguided,  and  turned  away  from  heaven,  the  feet  of 
his  flock  ;  that  he  himself,  assuming  the  office  of  guiding  them 
to  eternal  life,  has,  with  a  faithless,  unfeeling  heart,  and  a 
treacherous  hand,  led  them  down  to  the  chambers  of  death  ! 
With  what  emotions  must  his  flock  hear  this  terrible  rehearsal  ; 
and  see  themselves  conducted  to  perdition  by  the  very  man,  who 
ought  to  have  gone  before  them  to  endless  life  ! 

On  the  contrary,  with  what  views  will  the  mind  expand,  with 
what  transport  will  the  heart  throb,  of  that  Minister,  who,  on  this 
tremendous  occasion,  can  look  back,  with  the  serene  sunshine 
of  the  soul,  upon  a  life,  faithfully  devoted  to  the  service  of  God, 
and  a  Ministry,  employed  in  proclaiming  the  Gospel  of  his  Son 
to  mankind  ?  How  must  he  glow,  and  exult,  while  with  hum- 
ble confidence  he  approaches  the  throne  of  Judgment,  in  the 
midst  of  his  beloved  Charge,  and  joyfully  pronounces,  "  Behold 
here  am  I,  and  the  Children  whom  thou  hast  given  me  ?"  With 
what  unspeakable  delight  will  he  read  in  their  eyes,  their  grati- 
tude, their  aflfection,  and  their  triumph !  What  a  blessing  will 
it  then  seem  to  them,  to  have  been  committed  to  his  care  ?  Uni- 
ted to  an  assembly,  so  beloved  on  earth,  he  will  regard  the  glory 
of  immortal  life  as  peculiarly  endeared,  and  heaven  itself  as 
adorned  with  additional  beauty,  and  more  intense  joy  !  Instead 
of  trembling  in  expectation  of  the  terrible  anathema  in  the  text, 
he,  and  they,  will  only  draw  near,  to  be  pronounced  "  good  and 
faithful  servants  ;"  declared  to  have  "  well  done  ;"  and  com- 
manded to  "  enter  into  the  joy  of  their  Lord."  The  gates  of  life 
will  spontaneously  unfold,  to  receive  them  ;  and  the  angelic  host 
will  welcome  their  arrival  with  pecuHar  gratulation. 

If  a  minister,  and  his  people,  wish  for  such  a  close  of  their  ac- 
cepted time  ;  he  must  faithfully  preach  ;  and  they  must  cordially 
embrace,  the  Gospel,  preached  by  Paul. 


SERMON  XXX. 


THE  DIGNITY  AND  EXCELLENCE  OF  THE  GOSPEL, 

A  SERMON    PREACHED    APRIL  8,    1812,     AT    THE    ORDINATION    OF 
REV.  NATHANIEL  W.  TAYLOR. 

I.  Peter  i,  12, 
— Which  things  angels  desire  to  look  into. 

The  things,  of  which  St.  Peter  speaks  in  this  passage,  are  ex- 
plained by  him  in  the  context.  They  are  styled,  The  salvation 
of  the  soul^  the  reward  of  faith;  the  things  testified  by  the  Spirit 
of  Christ  concerning  his  sufferings,  and  the  glory  that  shoidd  fol- 
low them  ;  and  the  things,  which  had  been  reported,  or  announ- 
ced, to  the  Christians  of  lesser  Asia,  by  those  who  had  preached 
the  Gospel  to  them,  with  the  Holy  Ghost,  sent  down  from  heaven ^ 
that  is,  by  those  whose  preaching  had  been  accompanied  by  the 
inspiration,  and  miracles,  of  the  Holy  Ghost ;  in  other  words,  by 
Paul  and  his  immediate  companions ;  the  preachers,  who  prin- 
cipally carried  the  news  of  salvation  into  that  country.  To  him, 
who  is  willing  to  bestow  even  the  slightest  attention  upon  this 
various  phraseology,  it  will  be  evident,  that  these  things  can  be 
no  other  than  the  sum,  and  substance,  of  the  Gospel. 

Into  these  things  angels  are  here  said  to  desire  to  look.  The 
Cherubim  in  the  tabernacle,  whose  wings  overshadowed  the  mer- 
cy-seat, were  formed  in  a  bending  posture  ;  with  their  faces  look- 
ing down  on  this  divine  symbol,  as  if  earnestly  desirous  to  pry 
into  the  wonders,  which  it  represented.  In  the  text,  "angels,"  it 
is  said,  a/yyiXoi,,  (uot  oto^yfjiot,  the  angels,)  "desire  to  look  into 
these  things,"  m  d  mtevfitsvaiv  a/yysxoi  tta^axv^M :  "  into  which  things 
angels  earnestly  desire  to  stoop ;"  in  other  words,  "  into  which 

Vol.  II.  58 


254  THE  DIGNITY  AND  EXCELLENCE  [SER.  XXX 

things  angels  earnestly  desire  to  pry,  with  the  most  attentive  in- 
vestigation." 

By  angels,  here,  is  denoted  the  whole  Host  of  heaven,  involving 
all  lis  orders,  and  dignities:  the  rehsh  for  the  object  of  inquiry 
being  the  same  to  all,  and  the  spirit  of  investigation  the  same. 

If  these  exalted  beings  are  thus  desirous  to  search  into  the 
Gospel,  and  the  system  of  religion  which  it  contains ;  it  is  be- 
cause the  precepts,  and  doctrines,  which  it  unfolds,  and  the  facts, 
which  it  declares,  merit  their  inquisition.  The  intellect,  and  the 
circumstances,  of  angels  are  such,  as  to  prevent  them  from  error. 
Their  minds  are  indeed  finite  ;  and  their  knowledge  must,  there- 
fore, have  its  boundaries.  Still  they  admit  nothing  but  truth  ; 
and,  so  far  as  their  capacity  enables  them  to  understand  any  sub- 
ject, they  see  it  as  it  is.  They  have  no  bias,  no  prejudice,  no  in- 
ordinate desires.  The  love,  which  is  enjoined  in  the  Gospel  upon 
men ;  which  is  declared  to  be  the  fulfilling  of  the  law;  and  which 
reigns  in  their  minds  with  an  absolute  and  undivided  dominion ; 
rejoices  in  the  truth ;  and  prompts  them  to  embrace  it  always, 
and  alone,  wherever  it  may  be  found. 

At  the  same  time,  these  exalted  beings  are  possessed,  also,  of 
the  most  noble  and  refined  taste.  Their  relish  is  as  regularly 
conformed  to  truth,  as  theii^  intellect.  Nothing  little  can  engross 
their  attention :  nothing  debased  can  give  them  pleasure.  AH 
the  objects,  which  they  relish,  are  of  course  important,  and  valu- 
able. When,  therefore,  we  are  informed,  that  the  Gospel  is  an 
object  of  their  earnest  investigation  ;  we  are  also  informed,  that 
it  is  an  object  of  supreme  value,  and  importance. 

It  is  to  be  remembered,  that,  when  the  text  was  written,  these 
celestial  beings  had  been  employed  in  studying  the  subjects,  con- 
tained in  the  Gospel,  more  than  four  thousand  years.  From  the 
time,  when  it  was  first  published  in  the  sentence,  denounced  on 
the  serpent  who  deceived  our  first  parents,  to  the  day,  in  which 
his  head  was  bruised  by  the  Redeemer  of  mankind  in  the  com- 
pletion of  the  work,  which  he  came  to  accomplish,  they  had 
watched  the  progress  of  this  divine  system  of  dispensations  with 
the  most  minute,  and  critical,  examination.     During  this  long 


SER.  XXX.]  OF  THE  GOSPEL.  455 

period  also,  they  had  been  voluntarily,  and  actively,  employed, 
as  ministering  spirits,  in  carrying  the  designs,  which  it  involved, 
into  execution.  In  this  manner  they  acquired  a  knowledge  of 
the  Gospel,  which  was  in  many  respects  experimental  -,  and  un- 
derstood it  far  more  perfectly,  than  even  they  could  have  done  in 
the  exercise  of  mere  speculation.  Besides,  they  had  dwelt,  dur- 
ing this  period  at  least,  in  the  highest  heavens.  Heaven,  the 
place  both  of  their  birth,  and  their  residence,  is  not  only  the  na- 
tive region  of  truth,  but  also  the  scene  of  the  most  sublime  and 
glorious  dispensations  in  the  universe.  In  that  world  all  the 
wonders  of  Providence  are  consummated.  In  that  world  the 
perfections  of  God  are  manifested  in  their  supreme  beauty,  splen- 
dour, and  greatness.  Every  thing  which  it  contains  is  refined  ; 
every  thing  is  noble ;  every  thing  is  for  ever  improving.  But, 
after  all  their  acquaintance  with  the  glories  of  heaven,  angels 
earnestly  desired  to  look  into  the  things,  which  are  contained  in 
the  Gospel. 

The  wonder,  excited  by  this  fact,  will  be  lessened,  if  we  re- 
member, that  "  God  created  all  things  by  Jesus  Christ,  to  the  in- 
tent, that  now  unto  principalities,  and  powers,  in  heavenly  places, 
might  be  known,  Sia  tf^  ixx-Kfiava?,  by  means  of  the  Church,  ij  noxv- 
Hoixooi  ao^ia  OsH,  the  immensely  various  wisdom  of  God."  Such 
apposite,  and  advantageous,  means  of  exhibiting  the  divine  wis- 
dom to  principalities,  and  powers,  in  heavenly  places,  were  in- 
volved in  this  system  of  dispensations  to  the  Church,  that  the  Most 
High  deemed  it  a  sufficient  reason  for  the  creation  of  all  things. 
With  this  consideration  in  view,  we  cannot  think  it  strange,  that 
the  system  of  the  Gospel  should  command  the  researches  of  an- 
gels ;  since  God  has  thus  clearly  indicated,  that  they  will  here 
find  displays  of  his  manifold  wisdom,  which  will  enlighten  their 
understanding,  and  exalt  their  views,  after  all  their  acquaintance 
with  the  dispensations  of  heaven.  Our  wonder  will  probably 
cease,  if  we  further  remember,  that  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  is  the 
great  Agent  in  the  system  of  the  Gospel ;  and  that  his  character, 
actions,  and  sufferings,  are  the  principal  subjects  of  its  doctrines, 
precepts,  narratives,  and  institutions.     "  By  him,"  saith  St.  Paul, 


456  THE  DIGNITY  AND  EXCELLENCE  [SER.  XXX. 

"  were  all  things  created,  that  are  in  heaven,  and  that  are  in 
earth,  visible  and  invisible ;  whether  they  be  thrones,  or  domin- 
ions, or  principalities,  or  powers  :  all  things  were  created  by  him, 
and  for  him."  If  the  Creator  of  throoes  and  dominions,  of  prin- 
cipalities and  powers,  thought  it  proper  for  himself  to  become 
the  supreme  Agent  in  this  system ;  it  must  cease  to  excite  admi- 
ration, that  those  of  his  creatures,  the  energy  of  whose  minds  is 
formed  of  unmingled  virtue,  should  delight  to  sustain  a  subordi- 
nate agency  in  its  dispensations,  and  to  study  the  mysteries,  in- 
volved in  a  work  so  wonderful,  and  sublime. 

To  him,  who  assents  to  the  truth  of  Revelation,  this  passage 
amply  proves  the  dignity^  and  excellency,  of  the  Gospel.  To 
prove  the  truth  of  a  Scriptural  doctrine  is,  however,  but  one, 
and  that,  often,  the  least  necessary,  and  the  least  laborious,  ob- 
ject of  preaching.  To  illustrate  the  nature  of  the  doctrine,  and 
the  manner  in  which  it  is  true,  and  to  impress  its  importance  on 
the  minds  of  those  who  hear,  are  always  objects  of  high  moment ; 
and  often  demand  the  chief  attention  of  the  preacher.  Where 
a  doctrine  is  merely  proved,  it  is-loosely  regarded,  and  rarely  re- 
membered ;  but,  when  it  is  clearly  illustrated,  and  forcibly  appli-  |; 
ed,  a  hope  may  justly  be  entertained,  that  the  impressions,  which 
are  made  on  the  minds  of  an  audience,  will  be  permanent, 
and  useful.     With  this  hope,  I  will  now  attempt  to  illustrate  the 

IMPORTANCE,  DIGNITY,  AND  EXCELLENCE,  OF  THE  GOSPEL,  by  Sev- 
eral considerations,  which  if  I  mistake  not,  are  suited  to  such  a 
design.  In  the  mean  time,  those,  who  hear  me,  will  remember, 
as  they  cannot  fail  distinctly  to  perceive,  that  to  do  justice  to  the 
subject  is  beyond  the  power  of  a  hnman  preacher  ;  and  demands 
at  least  the  abilities,  possessed  by  the  beings,  who  have  thought 
it  deserving  of  their  own  most  laborious  investigation.  Even  an- 
gels could  not  do  it  justice.  In  itself,  and  in  its  consequences,  it 
will  engage  their  study,  and  admiration,  for  ever ;  and  they  will 
perpetually  find  their  former  views  of  its  extent,  and  value,  in- 
adequate, and,  in  many  ways,  imperfect.  What  then  must  be 
the  views  of  a  man  ?  St.  Paul,  when  this  treasure  was  commit- 
ted to  him  and  his  inspired  companions,  informs  us,  that  it  wa.° 


SER.  XXX.]  OF  THE  GOSPEL.  457 

placed  in  earthen  vessels  ;  coarse,  frail,  and  jierishable.  Succee- 
ding ministers  will  certainly  station  themselves  below  the  level  of 
the  Apostles. 

The  Gospel,  by  which  I  intend,  in  this  discourse,  the  Scriptures 
at  large,  is  a  History  of  the  Mediatorial  kingdom  of  the  Deity  ; 
of  that  kingdom,  which  involves  all  the  concerns  of  the  children 
of  Adam.  From  every  other  history  it  is  infinitely  different  in  the 
nobleness  of  its  subject.  Kings  and  heroes,  nations  and  empires, 
the  highest  subjects  of  other  histories,  have  here  little  significance. 
Jehovah  is  the  Potentate,  the  Messiah  the  Hero,  his  children  the 
nation,  his  actions  the  events,  and  his  kingdom  the  empire,  which 
engross  the  labours  of  the  sacred  historians. 

The  Design  of  this  kingdom,  is  the  salvation  of  an  endless 
multitude  of  immortal  beings.  In  this  design  are  equally  inclu- 
ded their  deliverance  from  sin  and  misery,  and  their  exaltation 
to  virtue  and  happiness,  which  will  know  no  end. 

Tlie  Theatre^  in  which  this  design,  and  all  the  events,  connect- 
ed with  its  accomplishment,  are  completed,  is  proportionally  ma- 
jestic ;  and  is  formed  of  heaven,  earth,  and  hell ;  the  stage  of 
probation,  and  the  seats  of  retribution,  for  the  righteous  and  the 
wicked. 

Proportionally  dignified  also,  are  the  Actors  in  this  magnificent 
plot.  Kings  and  nations  are,  here,  forgotten.  Moral  dignity  is 
alone  regarded,  where  the  design  is  salvation ;  and  the  actors, 
employed  in  accomplishing  it,  are  prophets  and  apostles,  the 
the  general  Assembly  of  the  first  born,  principalities,  and  pow- 
ers, in  heavenly  places,  and  the  mfinitely  glorious  persons  of  the 
Godhead. 

The  Duration  of  this  kingdom  is  eternal. 

The  Laws,  by  which  it  is  governed,  are  like  the  Author  of 
them,  holy,  just,  and  good.  They  are  so  simple,  as  to  be  compri- 
sed in  two  commands  ;  yet  so  extensive,  as  to  reach  all  the  possi- 
ble actions  of  intelligent  creatures ;  so  short,  and  so  plain,  as  to 
be  sufficiently  understood,  easily  remembered,  and  obviously  ap- 
plied by  every  moral  agent ;  so  honourable  to  the  law-giver,  as 
if  nothing  beside  his  honour  had  been  consulted  in  their  forma- 


458  THE  DIGNITY  AND  EXCELLENCE  [SER.  XXX. 

tion ;  so  beneficent  to  his  subjects,  as  if  devised  only  for  their 
happiness. 

The  Ultimate  End  of  this  kingdom  is  the  manifestation  of  the 
glory,  or  excellency  of  God,  For  the  accomplishment  of  this 
end  "  He,  who  was  in  the  form  of  God,  and  thought  it  no  rob- 
bery to  be  equal  with  God,  made  himself  of  no  reputation  ;  took 
upon  him  the  form  of  a  servant ;  and  was  made  in  the  likeness 
of  men.  And  being  found  in  fashion  as  a  man,  he  became  obe- 
dient unto  death,  even  the  death  of  the  cross.  Wherefore  God 
hath  highly  exalted  him,  and  given  him  a  name,  which  is  above 
every  name,  that  is  named  in  this  world,  and  that  which  is  to 
come  :  that  at  the  name  of  Jesus  every  knee  should  bow,  of 
things  in  heaven,  and  things  in  the  earth,  and  things  under  the 
earth ;  and  every  tongue  confess,  that  he  is  Lord  to  the  glory  of 
God,  the  Father." 

The  benevolence  of  God  is  the  glory  of  his  character.  "  God," 
saith  the  apostle  John,  "is  love."  This  peculiarly  divine  attri- 
bute was  illustriously  displayed  to  the  angels  in  heaven,  in  the 
communication  of  their  exalted  powers,  in  quickening  their  minds 
with  unmingled  virtue,  and  in  replenishing  them  with  pure  and 
immortal  enjoyment.  But  these  just  beings  "need  no  repen- 
tance." They  have  ever  been  obedient,  and,  therefore,  have 
ever  been  happy.  They  could  not  be  forgiven  ;  for  they  had 
never  sinned.  They  could  not  be  redeemed  ;  for  they  had  never 
been  cast  off. 

But  in  fallen  man  the  benevolence  of  God  found  a  new  object; 
an  object,  on  which  its  finished  beauty  might  be  exhibited  in  a 
manner,  unknown  even  to  angels.  "  God  commendeth  his  love 
to  us,"  to  angels,  and  to  all  beings,  who  are  witnesses  of  it,  "  in 
that,  while  we  were  yet  sinners,  he  gave  his  Son  to  die  for  us." 
This  is  the  consideration,  on  which  the  apostles  dwell  with  such 
transport,  when  they  descant  upon  "  the  height  and  the  depth, 
the  length  and  the  breadth,  of  the  love  of  Christ,  which  passeth 
knowledge."  This  was  the  theme,  which  warmed  the  tongue  of 
the  angel,  when  he  said  to  the  shepherds  of  Bethlehem,  "  Behold, 
!  bring  you  glad  tidings  of  great  joy,  which  shall  be  unto  all  peo- 


SER.  XXX.]  OF  THE  GOSPEL.  459 

pie  !"  This  was  the  enrapturing  subject,  which  tuned  the  voices 
of  his  heavenly  companions  when  they  sung,  "  Glory  to  God  in 
the  highest,  and  on  earth  peace  ;  good-will  towards  men  !" 

Mankind  were  the  lowest  order  of  rational  beings ;  were  born 
of  the  dust;  and  were  allied  to  worms.  Still  they  had  revolted 
from  God  ;  and  with  the  impudence,  as  well  as  the  hostility,  of 
rebellion,  had  said  unto  him,  "  Depart  from  us,  for  we  desire  not 
the  knowledge  of  thy  ways.  Who  is  the  Almighty,  that  we 
should  serve  him  ;  and  what  profit  shall  we  have,  if  we  pray  un- 
to him  ?"  Although  His  eternal  power  and  Godhead  were  from 
the  beginning,  clearhj  seen  throughout  the  world,  being  every 
where  understood  by  any  mind  willing  to  understand  them  ;  they 
denied  his  perfections ;  impeached  his  government;  questioned 
his  existence;  and  "said  in  their  hearts.  There  is  no  God." 
Creatures,  and  those  the  vilest,  and  most  insignificant,  thetj  wor- 
shipped, rather  than  the  Creator.  From  the  east  to  the  west, 
from  the  north  to  the  south,  temples  innumerable,  raised  for  the 
worship  of  stocks,  and  men,  and  devils,  insulted  the  Skies :  and 
altars,  "  from  the  rising  of  the  sun,  to  the  going  down  of  the 
same,"  smoked,  not  with  incense  and  oblations  only ;  not  with 
victims,  selected  from  the  fold  and  the  stall ;  but  with  human 
blood.  Nations  immolated  the  best,  and  brightest  youths  of  their 
age  and  country.  Parents  "  caused  their  own  children  to  pass 
through  the  fire  unto  Moloch." 

Equally  gross,  vile,  and  dreadful,  was  their  conduct  to  each 
ether.  Rulers  wielded  a  sceptre  of  iron ;  and  every  where  set 
up  the  gaol  and  the  gibbet,  the  stake  and  the  cross,  as  the  instru- 
ments of  their  sway,  and  the  symbols  of  their  character.  The 
hero  waded  through  the  blood,  and  planted  his  laurels  amid  the 
bones,  of  men.  Fields  were  sown  with  salt ;  and  cities  rose  in 
flames  to  heaven.  The  robber  haunted  the  high-way  ;  the  thief 
prowled  around  the  cottage  ;  and  the  assassin  lurked  behind  the 
curtain  of  night.  The  soul  was  infected  with  a  plague ;  and 
without  a  physician,  without  a  remedy,  to  check  the  malignant 
poison,  it  decayed,  died,  and  became  a  loathsome  mass  of  cor- 
ruption. 


460  THE  DIGNITY  AND  EXCELLENCE  [SER.  XXX 

Thus  the  world  was  one  great  scene  of  desolation.  Nor  were 
its  miseries  allayed  even  by  hope,  that  balm  of  Gilead  to  a 
wounded  spirit.  Its  situation  was  dreadful ;  its  prospects  were 
replete  with  horror.  With  heaven  its  communication  was  cut  off. 
God  was  unknown,  and  forgotten.  The  path  of  life  was  unoc- 
cupied, and  unsought.  Year  after  year,  and  age  after  age,  rolled 
over  its- melancholy  regions  ;  and  saw  no  messenger  arrive  from 
distant,  happier  climes,  with  tidings  of  restoration,  or  deliver- 
ance. It  was  a  world  in  ruins ;  a  vast  sepulchre,  hung  round 
with  darkness,  and  replenished  with  decay  and  death  ;  where  no 
sound  of  consolation  pierced  the  slumbering  ear,  and  no  beam  of 
hope  reillumined  the  eye,  closed  in  eternal  night. 

On  such  a  world  it  was  impossible  for  God  to  look  without  ab- 
horrence. That  righteous  law,  by  which  he  governs  the  universe, 
had  declared,  "  The  soul,  which  sinneth,  shall  die."  But  every 
child  of  Adajn  had  sinned  :  all,  therefore,  were  irreversibly  con- 
demned to  death.  Nor  could  the  "  law  pass,"  without  the  ful- 
filment of  every  "jot,  and  tittle,"  included  in  it ;  although  the  ful- 
filment should  require  the  destruction  of  "  the  heavens  and  the 
earth."  In  this  state  of  absolute  despair,  "  the  Father  of  all  mer- 
cies" was  pleased  to  say,  "  Deliver  the  soul  of  man  from  going 
down  to  the  pit ;  for  I  have  found  a  ransom."  Heaven  was 
startled  at  the  declaration  ;  and  the  bosoms  of  all  its  inhabitants 
trembled  with  astonishment  and  rapture.  They  had  seen  their 
own  apostate  companions  cast  out  of  the  regions  of  happiness, 
and  "  reserved  in  chains,  under  darkness,  to  the  judgment  of  the 
great  day."  No  more  favourable  destiny  could  be  expected  for 
man. 

The  ransom  found,  was  the  life  of  the  Son  of  God  ;  "  the 
brightness  of  his  glory,  and  the  express  image  of  his  person." 
The  gift,  on  the  part  of  the  Father,  was  the  greatest  of  all  gifts. 
The  self-denial,  on  the  part  of  the  Son,  was  the  highest  possible 
self-denial.  The  sacrifice  was  infinite  ;  and  could  not  be  de- 
manded, even  by  a  suffering  universe.  It  was  conceived  only  by 
boundless  wisdom ;  it  could  be  executed  only  by  boundless  love. 


SER.  XXX.]  OF  THE  GOSPEL.  461 

The  destiny  of  our  race,  announced  by  the  law  of  God,  and 
the  reversion,  proclaimed  by  the  Gospel  of  his  Son,  will  strongly 
illustrate  the  nature  of  this  transaction.  The  interests  of  the  im- 
mense and  eternal  kingdom  of  Jehovah  demand,  absolutely,  the 
final  exclusion  of  all  those,  who  rebel  against  his  government, 
from  every  future  good.  Sin  is  the  die,  which,  cast  once,  is  cast 
for  ever.  The  career,  once  entered  upon,  is  endless  :  "  None 
that"  commence  it  "  turn  again  ;  neither  take  they  hold  of  the 
paths  of  life."  Misery  is  both  its  concomitant,  and  its  conse- 
quence. To  sin,  and  suffer,  through  ages  which  cannot  end,  was, 
therefore,  the  certain,  final  allotment  of  every  child  of  Adam. 
The  sin  was  entire  ;  the  suffering  was  complete.  The  sinner  was 
removed  beyond  the  desire,  and  beyond  the  attainment,  of  any 
virtuous,  or  amiable  quality.  The  sufferer  was  placed  beyond 
the  hope,  and  beyond  the  possibility,  of  any  alleviation,  or  of  any 
end,  of  his  wo.  To  such  beings,  how  vast  must  be  the  accumu- 
lation of  wretchedness,  in  the  progress  of  ages  !  Proportional  is 
the  value  of  the  deliverance,  and  the  extent  of  the  wisdom,  and 
goodness,  by  which  it  is  accomplished. 

Proportionally  bright  and  glorious,  also,  is  the  destiny,  opened 
i  by  the  promises  of  the  Gospel.  "  He,  that  spared  not  his  own 
'  Son,"  saith  the  apostle,  "  but  delivered  him  up  for  us  all,  hovi^ 
shall  he  not  with  him,  also,  freely  give  us  all  things  ?"  The  great- 
est gift  He  has  already  bestowed  ;  it  cannot  be  strange,  that  he 
should  willingly  give  every  thing  else  to  those,  on  whom  it  was 
bestowed.  A  mind  here,  pure  and  perfect,  united  to  a  body  im- 
mortal like  itself,  and  "  refashioned  like  the  glorious  body  of 
Christ,"  will  begin,  and  advance  in,  an  eternal  progress  of  knowl- 
edge, virtue,  and  enjoyment ;  of  gratitude,  adoration,  and  praise ; 
of  moral  glory,  and  divine  beauty  ;  in  the  house  of  God  ;  amid 
the  innumerable  company  of  angels  ;  and  united  to  the  general 
assembly  of  the  first-born.  Beneficence  will  be  its  business  ;  hea- 
ven will  be  its  home.  No  enemy  will  disturb,  no  fear  lessen,  no 
casualty  interrupt,  and  no  succession  of  ages  terminate,  the  trans- 
ports of  the  blessed.  Before  the  throne  of  infinite  mercy  they 
will  sing,  with  the  harps  of  angels,  "  Unto  Him,  that  loved  as, 
,    Vol,  II.  59 


462  THE  DIGNITY  AND  EXCELLENCE  [SER.  XXX 

and  washed  us  from  our  sins  in  his  own  blood,  and  hath  made  us 
kings,  and  priests,  unto  God,  even  his  Father  ;  to  him  be  glory, 
and  dominion  for  ever.  Amen." 

Perfectly  suited  to  the  magnificence  of  this  scheme  are  the 
Doctrines  and  Precepts  of  the  Gospel.  The  doctrines  are,  every 
where,  such  as  become  the  Author  of  them  ;  such  as  become  god- 
liness ;  such  as  are  plainly  derived  from  the  Wisdom,  and  fraught 
with  the  Excellence,  of  Jehovah.  His  character  is  here  drawn 
by  an  unerring  hand.  The  lines  are  all  lines  of  the  most  perfect 
symmetry  ;  the  colours  are  the  colours  of  heaven.  United,  they 
form  the  only  portrait,  beneath  the  sun,  in  which  is  seen  the  like- 
ness of  a  God.  Heathen  philosophers,  and  modern  Infidels,  have 
only  caricatured  their  Maker. 

Equally  noble  and  excellent  are  the  Precepts.  The  heathen 
philosopher*  understood  not  the  nature  of  virtue,  or  of  vice  ;  nor 
discerned  the  boundary,  by  which  they  are  separated.  Infidels 
have  voluntarily  blended  them  ;  and  left  them  a  mere  mass  of 
mixture  and  confusion.  The  distinction  between  them  was  ori- 
ginally begun,  and  has  ever  been  continued,  in  the  Gospel.  With 
a  discrimination,  unknown  to  all  other  moral  systems,  it  separates 
universally,  good  and  evil  thoughts,  words,  and  actions  ;  and  suf- 
fers not  a  single  transgression  of  the  most  exact,  and  most  refin- 
ed, bounds  of  virtuous  conduct. 

So  comprehensive  are  the  doctrines  of  the  Gospel,  that  they  in- 
volve all  moral  truth,  known  by  man  :  so  extensive  are  the  pre- 
cepts, that  they  require  every  virtue,  and  forbid  every  sin.  Noth- 
ing has  been  added  to  either  by  the  labours  of  philosophy,  or  the 
progress  of  human  experience. 

Proportionally  noble,  also,  are  the  sentiments,  and  even  the 
descriptions,  contained  in  the  Gospel.  Compared  with  them,  the 
highest  efforts  of  Greece  and  Rome,  celebrated  as  they  have 
be^'en,  are  low,  httle,  and  childish.  This,  was  indeed,  a  thing  of 
course.  The  gods,  whose  characters  and  actions,  were  the  basis 
of  ti..eir  moral  and  religious  systems,  were  themselves  vicious, 
grovcilinjr,  despicable"beings  ;  greatly  inferiour  in  respectability, 
and  worth,  to  such  men,  as  Atticus,  or  Titus  Vespasian.     But 


8£R.  XXX.]  OF  THE  GOSPEL.  463 

the  mind  of  the  moral  teacher  will  never  ascend  higher,  than 
the  character,  which  he  forms  of  the  object  of  his  worship.  In 
some  instances,  I  readily  acknowledge,  they  uttered  noble  and 
subhme  thoughts  concerning  their  deities  ;  particularly  concern- 
ing Jupiter,  the  chief  of  their  dii  majores*  gentium.  But,  for 
all  these  thoughts  they  were  indebted,  originally  to  hints,  gleaned 
from  foreigners,  and  derived  ultimately  from  Revelation.  Aided 
in  this  manner,  their  minds,  which,  in  several  instances,  were  of 
a  superiour  mould,  formed  conceptions  of  this  nature,  which 
were  honourable  to  their  talents.  But  every  such  effort  was 
merely  the  leap,  not  the  steady  flight,  of  imagination :  much  less 
was  it  the  elevated  course  of  enlightened  intelligence.  Accor- 
dingly the  whole  representation  of  the  subject,  made  by  any  such 
writer,  is  a  monstrous  mass  of  debasement,  varied,  in  solitary  in- 
stances only,  by  more  just  and  elevated  conceptions.  By  the 
Scriptural  writers  we  are  uniformly  presented,  not  with  the  un- 
worthy actions  of  gods  plural ;  imperfect ;  mutable ;  debased 
with  human  immoralities;  unable  to  discern,  or  prevent,  the  course 
of  things  established  by  fate ;  dissenting  from  each  other  with 
mutual  enmity,  and  mutual  sufferings  ;  endangered  by  the  rebel- 
lion of  creatures,  and  defended  by  their  assistance ;  but  with  the 
perfect  agency  of  Jehovah  ;  by  whose  wisdom  all  things  were 
contrived ;  by  whose  word  they  were  created ;  by  whose  arm 
they  are  upheld ;  and  to  whose  glory,  with  a  solemn  progress, 
they  unceasingly  operate  ;  unfolded  in  images,  and  declarations, 
so  noble  and  majestic,  as  to  wear  on  their  very  face  the  impres- 
sion of  divinity. 

The  Catastrophe,  by  which  all  the  intricacies,  and  wonders,  of 
this  immense  plot  are  unravelled,  is  formed  by  the  proceedings 
of  the  final  day.  The  Son  of  God  will  then  descend  from  heav- 
en in  clouds ;  surrounded  by  the  glory  of  his  father,  and  accora- 
panied  by  all  his  holy  Angels.  He  will  then  summon  the  dead 
from  the  grave ;  and  reanimate  the  dust,  of  which  their  bodies 
were  formed.     The  innumerable  nations  of  men  will  stand  upon 

*  Superiour  gods. 


464  THE  DIGNITY  AND  EXCELLENCE  [SER.  XXX. 

their  feet  in  a  moment ;  and  be  gathered  around  the  tribunal  of 
Infinite  Justice.  The  wicked  will  be  doomed  to  "  everlasting  fire, 
prepared  for  the  devil  and  his  angels  :*'  and  the  righteous  admit- 
ted to  "the  kingdom,  prepared  for  them  from  the  foundation  of 
the  world."  The  visible  "heavens  will  then  pass  away  with  a 
great  noise ;"  the  earth  will  be  consumed  with  fire ;  the  Son 
"  will  deliver  up  the  kingdom  to  God,  even  the  Father  ;  and  God 
will  be  all  in  all. 

Thus,  my  brethren,  have  I  attempted  to  illustrate  the  nature  of 
this  subject ;  and  have  exhibited,  in  a  very  imperfect  and  summa- 
ry manner,  the  parts,  of  which  it  is  primarily  constituted.  Into 
these  things  angels  earnestly  desire  to  look,  and  all,  who,  like 
angels,  relish  the  beauty,  greatness,  and  glory,  of  the  Godhead. 

From  these  observations  I  infer, 

I.   That  the  Gospel  is  a  Revelation  from  God. 

To  do  justice  to  this  inference,  as  connected  with  these  pre- 
mises, would  require  a  series  of  volumes.  Still,  the  following 
considerations,  briefly  as  they  must  be  suggested,  may,  in  some 
degree,  be  useful  to  those  who  hear  me.  The  Jews,  it  is  well 
known,  were  never  distinguished  for  learning,  or  science.  By 
the  Romans,  after  they  became  acquainted  with  them,  they  were 
spoken  of  only  with  contempt.  By  modern  Infidels  they  have 
been  still  more  despised ;  and  made  the  objects  of  more  con- 
temptuous wit,  and  more  bitter  obloquy.  The  Greeks,  and  Ro- 
mans, on  the  contrary,  were  eminently  learned,  and  scientific. 
The  former,  also,  have  been  generally  considered  as  holding  the 
first  rank  of  human  genius  ;  and  the  latter,  as  excelling  in  wis- 
dom every  nation,  which  went  before  them.  Whence,  then,  let 
me  ask,  have  the  Jeivish  writers  left  those  of  Greece  and  Rome 
so  far  behind  them,  in  their  exhibitions  of  moral  and  religious 
subjects  ?  On  all  other  subjects  the  Greeks  and  Romans  speak 
like  men  :  on  these  they  lisp  like  children.  Children  every  where 
else,  the  Jewish  writers  here  speak,  not  like  men,  but  like  angels. 
The  God,  whom  they  describe,  is  indeed  very  God.  His  attri- 
butes they  have  formed  in  a  manner,  perfectly  suited  to  that  Be- 
ing, who  is  the  first  cause,  and  the  last  end  of  all  things.     JVoth- 


SER.  XXX.j  OF  THE  GOSPEL.  465 

ing  can  be  added  to  them :  nothing,  without  impiety,  can  be 
taken  from  them.  In  all  the  writings  of  the  human  race  there 
can  be  found  no  rival  to  them,  and  no  second.  But  they  have 
not  merely  drawn  his  character :  they  have  exhibited  him  as  the 
universaU.,i>'fi;z? ;  and,  fearlessly  entering  upon  a  task,  the  most 
difficult,  which  was  ever  assumed  by  man,  have  ascribed  to  him 
an  immense  series  of  actions^  perfectly  suited  to  the  stupendous 
character,  which  they  have  drawn,  and  fraught  with  a  sublimity, 
hyperbolical  and  amazing.  These  actions  are,  the  Creation  of 
the  heavens  and  the  earth  ;  the  preservation  and  government  of 
the  universe  ;  the  accomplishment  of  our  Redemption  ;  the  final 
judgment  of  angels  and  men  ;  and  the  endless  retribution  of  the 
righteous,  and  the  wicked.  Compared  with  the  Jehovah  of  the 
Gospel,  the  gods  of  heathen  philosophy  are  motes,  compared 
with  the  luminary,  in  whose  beams  alone  they  are  visible. 

The  system  of  dispensalions^  here  attributed  to  this  mighty 
Agent,  is  boundlessly  vast,  and  immensely  complicated.  The 
parts,  of  which  it  is  composed,  admit  neither  of  number,  nor  of 
measure.  What  cause  expanded  the  minds  of  these  men  over 
this  unlimited  field  of  thought?  Whence  were  they  able  to 
fathom  depths,  where  the  rest  of  mankind  merely  floated? 
Whence  is  it,  that  they  never  sink  beneath  the  grandeur  of  their 
subject  ?  never  wander  from  its  truth  ?  and  never  halt  amid  its 
complications  ?  Whence  is  it,  that  all  move  on  with  perfect 
harmony  ?  and,  while  the  writers  of  other  nations  dissent  endless- 
ly, not  only  from  each  other,  but  from  themselves,  these  maintain 
a  perfect  consistency  from  the  beginning  to  the  end  ? 

By  the  heathen  philosophers,  even  the  ablest  and  best  of  them, 
Morality  is  only  darkened,  and  debased.  They  discerned  neither 
the  nature,  nor  the  limits,  of  vice  and  virtue.  Against  the  former, 
indeed,  they  inveighed,  and  the  latter  they  eulogized,  with  a  vig- 
orous  eloquence ;  yet  they  very  often  exposed  virtue,  and  adorned 
vice  ;  and  alternately  enjoined,  and  prohibited,  both,  with  a  con- 
fusion of  thought,  and  a  depravity  of  heart,  which  make  their 
instructions  means  of  corruption  merely,  and  never  of  reforma- 
tion.    The  Scriptural  writers,  on  the  contrary,  enjoin  virtue  only, 


466  THE  DIGNITY  AND  EXCELLENCE  [SER.  XXX. 

prohibit  only  vice,  and  define  both,  in  a  manner  so  exact,  and  yet 
so  obvious,  that  a  child  need  not  mistake  them.  Their  way  of 
holiness  is  a  highway ;  and  wayfaring  men,  though  fools,  will 
never  necessarily  err  therein. 

The  philosophers  of  antiquity  saw  clearly,  that  mankind  were 
sinners,  and  needed  pardon  and  justification.  In  this  stupen- 
dous subject  Socrates  advanced  so  far,  as  to  doubt  whether  it 
were  possible  for  God  to  forgive  sin.  But  this,  painful  as  is  the 
conclusion,  was  a  stretch  of  wisdom,  never  attained  by  any  other 
philosopher.  Whence,  then,  did  the  apostles  derive  their  sys- 
tem of  Redemption  ?  Who  enabled  them  to  find  a  redeemer  ?  a 
scheme,  of  pardon,  a  scheme  of  justification,  so  satisfactory,  that 
no  man,  by  whom  it  was  understood,  was  ever  yet  afraid  to  ven- 
ture his  soul  upon  its  issue  ? 

It  is  a  remark  of  Johnson,  that  in  all  the  poetry  of  Greece  and 
Rome,  and  I  add,  without  hesitation,  in  the  philosophy,  and  histo- 
ry also,  there  is  not  a  single  truly  amiable  character.  The  cause 
of  this  essential  defect,  as  justly  assigned  by  this  great  man,  is, 
their  unacquaintance  with  the  Gospel.  Whence,  then,  let  me 
ask,  did  the  Evangelists  form  their  character,  of  the  Redeemer  ? 
A  character,  not  amiable  only,  but  perfect ;  a  character,  compar- 
ed with  which,  the  brightest  on  the  pages  of  heathenism,  is  a 
rush-light  to  the  sun. 

To  these  philosophers  also,  a  future  state  of  being  was  un- 
known. Several  of  them,  indeed,  conjectured,  and  a  few  hoped 
for,  such  an  existence.  By  what  means  did  the  Scriptural  wri- 
ters become  possessed,  not  of  hopes  and  conjectures,  but  of  the 
knowledge,  of  this  interesting  subject  ?  Whence  did  they  derive 
their  resurrection  ;  their  heaven  ;  their  glorious  immortality  ? 

To  comprehend  the  true  import  of  all  these  observations,  it  is 
necessary  to  remember,  that  there  are,  in  the  Scriptures,  at  least 
one  hundred  different  writers  and  speakers,  employed  on  these 
various  subjects ;  that  they  Hved  through  a  succession  of  fifteen 
hundred  years,  and  in  all  the  states  of  society,  involved  in  that 
period ;  that  they  were  of  every  class,  from  the  prince  to  the 
peasant ;  and  that  they  wrote  in  almost  every  form,  which  dis- 


SER.  XXX.]  0F  THE  GOSPEL.  467 

course  admits,  and  on  occasions  as  various,  as  were  the  writers 
themselves.  Yet  these  characteristics  belong  to  them  all.  They 
have  the  same  God  ever  in  view  ;  the  same  Redeemer ;  the  same 
salvation  ;  the  same  immortal  life.  Their  views  of  holiness,  and 
of  sin,  are  alike  comprehensive,  and  exact.  Their  precepts  all 
require,  and  all  forbid,  the  same  things.  The  grandeur  of  their 
views,  and  the  sublimity  of  their  conceptions,  are,  also,  every 
where  wonderful.  With  an  eagle's  eye  they  all  look  directly  at 
the  Sun  ;  and  with  an  eagle's  wing  ascend  perpetually  towards 
the  glorious  luminary. 

To  impress  this  subject  with  its  proper  force,  let  me  exhibit  it 
m  a  single  point  of  view. 

The  apostle  John  was  born  in  an  age,  when  the  philosophy  of 
his  country  was  a  mere  mass  of  quibling ;  its  religion  a  compound 
of  pride  and  bigotry  ;  and  its  worship  a  ceremonious  parade. 
His  lineage,  his  circumstances,  his  education,  and  his  employ- 
ment, were  those  of  a  fisherman. 

On  what  possible,  natural  principle  can  it  then  be  accounted 
for,  that,  like  the  sun  breaking  out  of  an  evening  cloud,  this  plain 
man,  in  these  circumstances,  should,  at  an  advanced  age,  burst 
upon  mankind  with  such  a  flood  of  effulgence  and  glory  ? 
Whence  did  it  arise,  that  in  purity  of  precept  ;  sublimity  of 
thought ;  discernment  of  truth  ;  knowledge  of  virtue  and  duty ; 
and  an  acquaintance  with  the  moral  character  of  man,  and  the 
attributes  of  his  Maker  ;  this  peasant  leaves  Socrates,  Plato,  and 
Cicero,  out  of  sight,  and  out  of  remembrance  ?  Do  you  question 
the  truth  of  this  representation  ?  The  proof  is  at  hand,  and  com- 
plete. There  is  not  a  child  of  fifteen,  in  this  house,  nor,  if  pos- 
sessed of  the  common  education,  in  this  land,  who  would  not  dis- 
dain to  worship  their  gods,  or  embrace  their  religion.  But  Ba- 
con and  Boyle,  Butler  and  Berkeley,  Newton  and  Locke,  Addi- 
son and  Johnson,  Jones  and  Jlorsley,  have  submissively  embraced 
the  religion  of  St.  John ;  and  worshipped  the  God,  whose  char- 
acter he  has  unfolded.  Their  systems  have  long  since  gone  to 
the  grave  of  oblivion.  His  has  been  animated  with  incieasing 
vigour  to  the  present  hour  ;  and  will  live,  and  flourish,  through 


468  THE  DIGNITY  AND  EXCELLENCE  [SER.  XXX. 

endless  ages.  Tlieir  writings  have  not  made  one  man  virtuous. 
His  have  peopled  heaven  with  the  children  of  light.  The  17th 
chapter  of  his  Gospel,  written,  as  it  is,  with  the  simplicity  of  a 
child,  yet  in  grandeur  of  conception,  and  splendour  of  moral  ex- 
cellence, triumphs,  with  inexpressible  glory,  over  all  the  efforts  of 
human  genius,  and  looks  down  from  heaven  on  the  proudest  la- 
bours of  Infidelity. 

Nor  are  the  Images^  formed  by  the  mind  of  this  Apostle,  dis- 
proportioned  to  his  moral  sentiments.  Read  his  description  of 
our  Saviour,  amid  the  seven  golden  candlesticks  ;  of  the  majesty 
of  God,  and  of  the  divine  assembly  of  the  firstborn  in  the  highest 
heavens;  of  "the  angel,"  at  whose  command  "the  seven  thun- 
ders uttered  their  voices  ;"  of  "  the  woman,  clothed  with  the 
sun  ;"  of"  the  King  of  kings,"  at  the  head  of  his  armies  ;  of  the 
solemn  transactions  at  the  great  day  ;  and  of  "  the  New  Jerusa- 
lem, coming  down  from  God,  prepared  as  a  bride,  adorned  for 
her  husband  ;"  and  tell  me  in  what  nation,  in  what  writer,  coun- 
terparts for  them  can  be  found  1  Hear  him  in  a  few  plain,  una- 
dorned expressions  leave  every  effort  of  Grecian  gt^nius  out  of 
comparison.  "  And  I  saw  a  great  white  throne,  and  him,  that 
sat  on  it ;  from  whose  face  the  heavens  and  the  earth  fled  away  ; 
and  there  was  found  no  place  for  them." 

At  the  same  time,  the  immensely  complicated  and  mysterious 
scheme  of  Redemption,  and  the  vast  system  of  Providential  dis- 
pensations, founded  upon  it,  were  distinctly  comprehended  by  the 
mind  of  this  humble  man.  These  amazing  subjects  he  has  han- 
dled in  innumerable  instances,  and  forms  :  and  light,  beauty,  and 
glory,  have  every  where  sprung  up  at  his  touch. 

Let  us  now  make  this  case  practical.  Suppose  the  most  in- 
genious fisherman  of  this  country  were  to  attempt  the  same  sub- 
jects ;  and  to  form  a  new  scheme  of  Redemption,  and  a  new  sys- 
tem of  Providence.  What,  does  common  sense  declare,  must  be 
the  character  of  his  writings  ?  Yet  in  this  country  fishermen,  as 
well  as  all  other  men,  are  educated  in  a  manner,  far  superior  to 
that,  which  existed  in  Judea  at  the  time  of  the  apostle  John  :  and 
here,  also,  their  conceptions  on  these  subjects  are  enlarged,  and 


^ER.  XXX.]  OF  THE  GOSPEL.  469 

ennobled,  by  his  writings,  and  those  of  his  fellow-apostles.  I  will 
only  ask  further,  what  man  of  any  talents,  and  with  any  educa- 
tion, could  now  write  as  St.  John  has  written  ? 

II.  From  these  observations,  also,  I  argue  the  folly  of  Inju- 
delity. 

Angels  delight  in  the  Gospel :  Infidels  loathe  it.  Angels  ear- 
nestly study  it  with  the  deepest  attention  :  Infidels  cast  it  away. 
Angels  learn  from  it  the  manifold  wisdom  of  God  in  his  dispen- 
sation to  his  Church  :  Infidels  treat  it  with  contempt  and  deri- 
sion ;  and,  proud  of  their  own  attainments,  and  lapped  in  self- 
sufficiency,  coolly  say,  "  Doubtless  we  are  the  people ;  and  wisdom 
shall  die  with  us.''"'  To  which  will  common  sense  give  the  palm 
of  wisdom  ? 

Infidels  are  losers  by  their  rejection  of  the  gospel  in  the  enjoy- 
ments of  taste  ;  in  intellectual  enjoyment ;  in  their  character  ;  in 
their  hopes  ;  and  in  their  end. 

Educated  Infidels  covet  the  character  of  men  of  taste ;  and 
boast  of  possessing  it  in  a  superiour  degree.  The  primary  objects 
of  taste  are  novelty,  grandeur,  beauty,  and  benevolence.  The 
three  former  are  extensively  diffused  over  the  natural  world  ;  the 
moral  world  is  replenished  with  them  all.  The  beauty  and  gran- 
deur of  the  natural  world  ;  the  beauty  of  the  landscape,  and  of 
the  sky  ;  the  grandeur  of  the  storm,  the  torrent,  the  thunder,  and 
the  volcano  ;  the  magnificence  of  mountains,  and  the  ocean  ;  and 
the  sublimities  of  the  heavens ;  may  undoubtedly  be  relished  by 
the  mind  of  an  Infidel,  as  really  as  by  that  of  a  Christian.  But 
how  insignificant  are  even  these  splendid  scenes  of  nature,  if  the 
universe  is  only  a  lifeless  mass  ;  a  corpse  devoid  of  an  animating 
principle  ?  How  changed  is  the  scene  ;  how  enhanced  the  sub- 
limity ;  when  our  thoughts  discern,  that  an  Infinite  Mind  formed, 
preserves,  controls,  and  quickens,  the  whole ;  that  this  Mind  is 
every  where  present ;  lives  ;  sees  ;  acts  ;  directs  ;  and  blesses  the 
beings,  whom  it  has  made  ;  that,  "  if  we  ascend  into  heaven, 
God  is  there ;  if  we  go  down  to  hell ;  lo,  He  is  there  !  if  we  take 
the  wings  of  the  morning,  and  dwell  in  the  uttermost  parts  of  the 
sea  ;  even  there  his  hand  will  lead  us,  and  his  right  hand  hold 

Vol.  II.  60 


470  THE  DIGNITY  AND  EXCELLENCE  [SER.  XXX. 

US."  At  the  same  time,  how  infinitely  more  subhme  is  such  a 
Mind,  than  all  the  works,  which  it  has  created  !  "  I  am,"  saith 
Jehovah,  "  and  there  is  none  else.  All  nations,  before  me,  are 
as  nothing ;  and  they  are  accounted  unto  me  less  than  nothing 
and  vanity." 

In  the  moral  world  their  loss  is  entire.  Of  the  beauty,  and 
greatness,  of  that  world  they  form  no  conceptions.  For  these 
objects  their  taste  is  not  begun.  The  pleasures,  derived  from 
this  source,  are  the  privilege  only  of  minds,  which  are  invested 
with  moral  beauty,  and  adorned  with  the  loveliness  of  the 
Gospel. 

In  the  field  oi  Intellectual  enjoyment  they  are  not  more  happy. 
Infidels  are  not  unfrequentiy  men  of  learning,  and  of  science  ; 
but  their  learning  is  usually  mischievous  to  them  ;  and  their  sci- 
ence, of  no  value  :  for  both  serve  only  to  inflate  them  with  pride, 
and  estrange  them  from  their  Maker. 

Moral  science  is  the  end  of  that,  which  is  physical.  In  this 
field  the  attainments  of  Infidels  are  oppositions  of  science,  falseh/ 
so  called  ;  a  collection  of  dreams,  more  specious,  and  decent,  but 
equally  unreal  with  those  of  Behnen  ',  and  bearing  the  same  re- 
lation to  knowledge,  as  a  romance  to  history.  What  is  the  world 
in  the  eye  of  an  Infidel  ?  A  product  of  fate,  chance,  or  necessi- 
ty ;  without  design  ;  without  government ;  without  a  God  :  its 
inhabitants  born,  none  knows  why  ;  and  destined  to  go,  none 
knows  whither.  Of  duty,  virtue,  worship,  acceptance  with  God, 
and  the  rewards  of  obedience,  they  know,  and  choose  to  know, 
nothing.  To  them  the  moral  universe  is  a  chaos.  The  Gospel, 
looking  on  this  mass  of  confusion,  has  said,  "  Let  there  be  light : 
and  there  is  light." 

But,  although  "this  light  has  come  into  the  world,"  Infidels  have 
"  loved  darkness  rather  than  light,  because  their  deeds  were  evil," 
Instead  of  the  pleasure,  furnished  by  the  glorious  truths  of  the 
moral  system,  they  find  only  doubt  and  perplexity.  Sweet  as  the 
light  is  to  those,  who  have  eyes  to  see  it ;  and  pleasant  as  it  is  to  he- 
hold  the  Sun  of  righteousness;  Infidels  turn  away  their  sight  from 
this  divine  object ;  and  therefore  only  grope,  and  stumble,  and  fall. 


SER.  XXX.]  OF  THE  GOSPEL.  471 

In  their  Character  their  loss  is  inestimable.  It  is  the  loss  of 
Evangelical  virtue  ;  of  the  esteem  of  all  the  wise  and  good  ;  and 
of  the  approbation  of  God. 

Inestimable,  also,  is  their  loss  of  Hope.  They  reject  the  Re- 
deemer ;  and  are,  therefore,  left  to  stand  on  the  ground  of  their 
ovi^n  obedience.  But  they  have  never  obeyed ;  and  are,  there- 
fore, condemned  by  the  law,  which  they  have  only  broken.  Rea- 
son decides,  that  God  does  not  love,  and  cannot  reward,  bad 
men.  This  decision  Revelation  repeats  in  thunder.  But  Infidels 
are  all  sinners.  The  only  objects  before  them  are,  of  course, 
annihilation,  or  endless  woe. 

"There  is,"  saith  Solomon,  "  a  way,  which  seemeth  good  to  a 
man  :  but  the  end  thereof  is  a  bitter  death."  Were  the  Gospel 
as  untrue,  as  Infidels  assert ;  they  would  be  no  gainers.  If  it 
should  be  true ;  what  will  become  of  them  ?  What  must  be  the 
feelings  of  an  Infidel  on  a  dying  bed,  if  he  is  then  in  possession 
of  sober  thought ;  and  solemnly  remembers  his  comtempt  for 
the  Saviour,  and  his  rejection  of  the  offers  of  life  ?  With  what 
emotions  must  he  enter  Eternity? 

III.  This  subject  furnishes  every  minister  of  the  Gospel  in- 
structions of  supreme  importance. 

Some  of  these  I  shall  address  immediately  to  the  Pastor  elect. 

You  have  heard,  my  friend,  and  brother,  an  imperfect  repre- 
sentation of  that  Gospel,  to  the  ministration  of  which  you  are 
this  day  solemnly  called,  of  the  purity  of  its  precepts,  the  excel- 
lence of  its  doctrines,  and  the  glory  of  that  divine  kingdom,  of 
which  it  contains  the  history.  Let  me  address  to  you  these  all- 
important  considerations  with  the  freedom,  and  the  affection  of 
a  friend,  and  a  minister. 

Let  me  remind  you,  that  in  the  Gospel,  as  in  a  mirror,  clear 
and  undeceiving,  is  imaged  in  the  strongest  manner,  and  in  liv- 
ing colours,  the  dignity  of  your  office ;  not  a  dignity,  fostering 
ambition,  nor  flattering  pride  ;  but  a  dignity,  existing  wholly  in 
the  mind,  shining  in  every  meek  and  humble  grace,  and  adorning 
a  life,  consecrated  to  God,  and  useful  to  mankind.  In  all  your 
efforts  for  the  salvation  of  men,  you  are  here  taught  to  regard 


472  THE  DIGNITY  AND  EXCELLENCE  [SER.  XXX. 

yourself  as  a  fellow-labourer  with  angels ;  as  co-operating  with 
the  Redeemer.  He  also  preached  the  Gospel ;  and  although 
"  his  name  is  above  every  name,"  adorned  his  office  with  far  oth- 
er splendours  than  pomp  and  pride.  Let  me  urge  on  you  his 
perfect  example,  and  the  exalted  subject  of  his  preaching,  as  a 
divine  combination  of  motives,  indispensably  necessary  to  so  im- 
perfect a  creature,  as  man,  to  do  nothing,  which  will  not  become 
the  disciple  of  such  a  Master. 

Among  the  attributes,  which  form  a  dignified  character,  none 
is  more  essential  than  faithfulness.  To  this  excellence  every 
inducement  is  presented  by  the  revealed  system.  It  points  you 
to  an  all-seeing  God,  intent  with  an  awful  and  searching  eye  upon 
every  part  of  your  conduct ;  an  infinitely  faithful  Redeemer,  pres- 
ent in  every  trial,  and  every  distress,  to  accomplish  the  salvation, 
which  you  preach;  a  cloud  of  witnesses,  faithfully  spending,  and 
cheerfully  sacrificing,  their  lives  for  the  same  desirable  purpose  ; 
the  immortal  life  of  your  own  soul,  and  the  souls  of  your  congre- 
gation, placed  in  colours  of  life  before  your  eyes,  and  appealing 
with  immense  solemnity  and  endearment  to  your  heart.  Your 
great  duty,  which  is  "  the  manifestation  of  the  truth,"  will  call 
you  continually  to  encounter  many  temptations,  from  the  love  of 
popularity,  the  fear  of  offending,  and  the  desire  of  seeing  peace 
in  your  days.  In  the  same  system  are  the  means,  and  the  mo- 
tives, by  which  you  may  avoid  them,  set  before  you  in  the  stron- 
gest light.  It  may  be  profitable,  on  this  solemn  occasion,  to  re- 
mind you,  that  you  are  there  considered  as  a  stranger  here  below; 
destitute  of  an  abiding  city ;  and  wandering  through  the  wilder- 
ness of  human  life  to  that  invisible  world,  where  every  faithful 
minister  will  find  his  eternal  residence.  Between  that  world,  and 
the  present,  it  is  the  only  channel  of  communication.  It  opens 
the  gates  of  those  regions,  which  spirits  unembodied  and  immor- 
tal inhabit.  It  teaches  you,  that  in  that  world  you  will  need  dig- 
nity, recommendation,  and  enjoyment,  infinitely  more  than  in 
this;  and  that  the  qualifications,  which  will  confer  these  blessings 
on  you  there,  are  very  different  from  those,  which  will  produce 
them  here.     To  the  inhabitants  of  that  world  it  will  be  a  mattei 


SEH.  XXX.]  OF  THE  GOSPEL.  473 

of  perfect  indifference,  whether  you  have.here  dwelt  in  a  palace, 
or  in  a  shed ;  have  ruled  an  empire,  or  fed  a  flock.  So  different 
are  the  views,  and  manners,  of  that  world  from  the  same  things 
in  ihis,  that  to  have  been  "  rich  in  faith,"  to  have  been  "  an  heir 
of  the  promises,  and  to  have  performed  faithfully  the  solemn  of- 
fice, which  you  have  chosen,  will  be  higher  dignity,  a  stronger 
recommendation,  and  a  source  of  more  extensive  enjoyment, 
than  to  have  swayed  the  sceptre  of  a  world.  If  you  suitably 
realize  these  considerations  ;  no  others  will  move  you  ;  "neither 
will  you  account  even  your  life  dear  to  yourself;  so  that  you  may 
finish  your  course  with  joy,  and  the  ministry,  which  you  receive 
of  the  Lord  Jesus,  to  testify  tlie  Gospel  of  the  grace  of  God." 

In  5he  faithful  manifestation  of  the  truth  you  will  undoubtedly 
experiejice  many  distresses  from  insensibility,  opposition,  and  evil 
speaking.  The  great  preacher  informs  you,  that,  "  if  the  world 
hate  jou,  it  hateth  him  also  ;  and  that  it  is  enough  for  the  servant, 
if  he  be  as  his  Lord.  He  hath  not  left  you  comfortless.  He 
hath  prayed  the  Father  ;  and  He  hath  given  you  another  Com- 
forter, even  the  Spirit  of  Truth  ;  that  he  may  abide  with  you  for 
ever.  Seek  earnestly  to  be  purified  ;  labour  earnestly  to  purify 
yourself;  that  you  may  become  a  temple  fitted  for  the  inhabita- 
tion of  this  divine  guest.  From  him  will  you  derive  the  peace, 
which  Christ  left  to  his  disciples  ;  the  joy,  which  he  alone  can 
give,  and  which  the  universe  is  unable  to  take  away.  Grudge  not, 
therefore,  the  vvorldhng  his  wealth,  the  statesman  his  power,  the 
philosopher  his  science,  the  man  of  taste  his  villa,  or  the  sensualist 
his  dainties.  To  you  the  Gospel  unfolds  treasures,  which  are  real, 
and  unlimited  ;  influence,  which  will  extend  through  immortal 
ages;  science,  sublime,  immense,  and  rapturous;  a  mansion  in 
the  house  of  God  ;  and  an  eternal  banquet,  gathered  from  that 
Eden,  which  his  own  right  hand  hath  planted.  Here  enjoyment 
will  be  your  interest,  your  honour,  and  your  duty.  Here  intem- 
perance and  satiety  cannot  exist.  Here  indulgence  is  bounded 
only  by  the  capacity. 

In  the  Gospel,  to  the  ministration  of  which  you  are  this  day 
to  be  consecrated,  is  embodied  that  exhalted  science,  which  you 


474  THE  DIGNITY  AND  EXCELLENCE  [SER.  XXX. 

are  especially  concerned  to  attain.  Immensely  different  from  the 
cold  speculative  systems  of  philosophy,  which,  although  they 
sometimes  amuse  the  head,  have  no  connection  with  the  heart ; 
the  doctrines,  involved  in  tliis  science,  arc  all  practical,  divine- 
ly efficacious  on  the  character,  and  means,  at  the  same  time,  of 
expanding,  ennobling,  and  purifying,  the  soul.  At  every  step, 
as  you  advance  in  this  know^ledge,  it  will  make  you  not  only 
more  learned,  but  more  virtuous,  and  more  useful.  Every  step, 
also,  will  be  a  step  of  delight.  Here,  and  here  only,  truth  out- 
runs all  the  efibrts  of  fiction,  in  beauty,  sublimity,  and  glory. 
Whatever  is  great  to  the  view  of  the  intellect,  whatever  is  sub- 
lime to  the  eye  of  imagination,  whatever  is  ravishing  to  the  feel- 
ings of  the  heart,  is  found  here,  in  degrees,  which  cannot  be  lim- 
ited. In  the  pursuit  of  this  truth  the  mind  is  not  merely  .Relight- 
ed, but  enraptured  ;  is  not  merely  elevated,  but  ennobled  ;  does 
not  merely  look  on,  but,  while  it  looks,  "  is  changed  into  the  same 
image,  from  glory  to  glory,  by  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord."  These 
are,  "  the  things"  into  which  "  angels  desire  to  look."  Shall  not 
men,  infinitely  interested  in  them,  shall  not  ministers,  whose 
first  duty  it  is  to  communicate  them  to  others,  follow  their  exam- 
ple ?  Those,  who  would  resemble  angels,  must  love  the  employ- 
ments of  angels.  Unite,  then,  with  these  exalted  beings  in  stud- 
ying the  divine  system  of  truth,  contained  in  the  Gospel.  Here 
you  will  find  all,  which  you  need,  under  God,  to  make  you  a 
blessing  in  this  world,  and  to  assure  you  in  the  world  to  come  of 
an  inheritance  in  the  kingdom  of  glory. 

The  same  system  of  truth  cannot  but  inspire  you  with  the  strong- 
est benevolence  to  the  people,  committed  to  your  charge.  We 
hope,  we  trust,  you  preach  a  God,  who  has  pardoned  you ;  a 
Saviour,  who  has  died  for  you ;  doctrines,  which  you  firmly  be- 
lieve ;  and  precepts,  which  you  faithfully  intend  to  obey  ;  endless 
misery,  from  which  you  hope  to  escape,  and  endless  happiness, 
in  which  you  hope  to  share.  Make,  then,  their  interest  your  own  ; 
feel  for  them,  as  for  yourself.  Think  what  it  is  to  be  saved  ;  what 
it  is  to  perish.  Recollect  daily,  that  they  may  be  your  compan- 
ions in  heaven  ;  and  that  through  eternity  you  may  enjoy  the 


SER.  XXX.]  OF  THE  GOSPEL.  475 

transport  of  remembering,  that  you  have  been  the  instrument  of 
their  salvauon.  Through  eternity  they  may  remember,  that  un- 
der your  ministry  they  were  born  of  God  ;  made  heirs  of  endless 
life  and  fitied  for  the  glory  of  heaven.  Think  what  a  consumma- 
tion of  your  ministry  it  will  be  to  lead  them  up  to  the  throne  of 
judgment,  at  the  final  day  ;  and  to  say  to  him,  who  died  on  the 
cross,  "  Behold,  here  am  I,  and  the  children,  whom  thou  hast 
given  me."  Think  what  it  will  be  through  endless  ages  to  have 
their  blessings  heaped  upon  your  head. 

With  these  solemn  considerations  always  in  full  view,  you  will 
labour,  earnestly,  to  "  come  forth"  to  this  people  "  in  the  fulness 
of  the  blessing  of  the  Gospel  of  Peace."  Your  sermons,  before 
they  are  brought  to  the  house  of  God,  you  will  water  with  your 
tears,  and  embalm  witii  your  prayers.  You  will  "  plant  the  seed" 
of  life  "  with  all  humility  of  mind ;  and  with  many  tears,"  you 
will  beseech  the  Author  of  all  blessings  to  "  give  the  increase." 
You  will  remember,  you  will  feel  that  you  are  appointed  by  the 
great  Shepherd  to  "  watch  this  flock  in  the  fear  of  God,  as  one 
who  must  give  an  account."  But  what  must  be  the  account,  giv- 
en by  a  minister,  at  the  bar  of  God,  of  a  wasted  life  ;  of  squander- 
ed talents  ;  of  sloth,  and  cowardice,  in  his  master's  service  ;  of 
a  perverted  Gospel ;  of  an  abused  ministry  ;  of  faithless  sermons  ; 
and  of  a  neglected  flock,  left  by  himself  to  error,  sin,  and  ruin, 
precluded  from  eternal  life,  lulled  into  the  sleep  of  death,  and  led 
to  perdition  ! 

With  these  awful  considerations  in  view,  who,  that  deserves 
the  name  of  a  minister,  who  that  deserves  the  name  of  a  man, 
can  fail  of  delivering  the  message  of  God  boldly,  fervently,  faith- 
fully, with  the  deepest  tenderness,  with  the  strongest  yearnings  of 
affection.  Must  not  his  heart  beat ;  must  not  his  voice  tremble ; 
when  he  rehearses  to  dying  creatures,  hastening  to  the  judgment, 
the  terrors  of  the  Hnal  day,  and  the  burnings  of  devouring  fire  ? 
Must  not  his  bosom  heave ;  must  not  his  eye  kindle ;  must  not 
his  tongue  glow ;  when  he  repeats  the  wonders  of  redemption, 
the  sufferings  of  the  cross,  the  excellency  and  loveliness  of  the 
Redeemer,  the  mercy  of  a  forgiving  and  sanctifying  God,  and 


47G  THE  DIGNITY  AND  EXCELLENCE  [SER.  XXX 

the  glories  of  immortal  life ;  when  he  puts  his  hand  on  the  door 
of  heaven  ;  and,  opening  it  for  the  entrance  of  his  flock,  disclo- 
ses to  them  the  throne  of  Goo  and  the  Lamb,  the  innumerable 
company  of  angels,  the  general  assembly  of  the  first  born  sur- 
rounding the  tree  of  Life,  and  singing  with  transport  the  eternal 
hymn ;  "  Blessing,  and  honour,  and  glory,  ana  power,  be  unto 
Him,  that  sitteth  on  the  throne,  and  unto  the  Lamb,  for  ever  and 
ever.   Amen !" 

IV.  Let  me  from  this  view  of  the  Gospel,  urge  every  member 
of  my  audipnce  to  secure  its  blessings. 

To  this  divine,  this  indispensable  employment,  every  motive 
calls  you,  which  can  reach  the  heart  of  virtue  or  wisdom.  The 
terms,  on  which  these  blessings  are  otfered,  are  of  all  terms  the 
most  reasonable.  You  are  summoned  to  no  sacrifice,  but  of  sin, 
and  shame,  and  wretchedness.  No  service  is  demanded  of  you, 
but  services  of  gain,  and  glory.  "My  son,  give  me  thine  heart," 
is  the  requisition,  which  involves  them  all.  Remember  how  vast, 
how  multiplied,  how  noble,  these  blessings  are !  Remember, 
that  the  happiness  of  heaven  is  not  only  unmingled,  and  consum- 
mate;  not  only  uninterrupted,  and  immortal ;  but  ever  progress- 
ive. Here  all  the  attributes  of  body  and  mind ;  the  peace  with- 
in, and  the  glory  without ;  the  knowledge,  and  the  virtue ;  the 
union  of  minds,  and  the  beneficence  of  the  hand  ;  gratitude  to 
God,  and  his  complacency  in  his  children ;  together  with  the  pe- 
culiarly divine  system  of  providence  in  that  delighttui  world  ;  will 
advance  with  a  constant  step  towards  the  ever-retreating  goal  of 
absolute  perfection.  The  sanctified  infant  will  here  hasten  on- 
ward to  the  station,  occupied  by  Abraham,  Moses,  and  Paul. 
These  superiour  Intelligences  will  regularly  move  forward  to  that 
of  angels  ;  and  angels  will  lift  their  wings  to  a  summit,  to  which, 
hitherto,  no  angel  ever  wandered,  even  in  the  most  vigorous  ex- 
cursions of  thought.  Thus  will  this  divine  assembly,  make  a 
perpetual  progress  in  excellence,  and  enjoyment,  towards  bounds, 
which  ever  retire  before  them,  and  ever  will  retire,  when  they 
shall  have  left  the  heights,  on  which  Seraphs  now  stand,  beyond 
the  utmost  stretch  of  recollection. 


SER.  XXX.3  OF  THE  GOSPEL.  477 

To  this  scene  of  glory,  all  things  continually  urge  you.  The 
seasons  roll  on  their  solemn  course ;  the  earth  yields  its  increase; 
to  furnish  blessings  to  support  you.  Mercies  charm  you  to  their 
author.  Afflictions  warn  you  of  approaching  ruin ;  and  drive 
you  to  the  ark  of  safety.  Magistrates  uphold  order,  and  peace, 
that  you  may  consecrate  your  labours  to  the  divine  attainment. 
Ministers  proclaim  to  you  the  "  glad  tidings  of  great  joy  ;"  and 
point  out  to  you  the  path  to  heaven.  The  sabbath  faithfully  re- 
turns its  mild  and  sweet  season  of  grace,  that  earthly  objects 
may  not  engross  your  thoughts,  and  prevent  your  attention  to 
immortality.  The  sanctuary  unfolds  its  doors  ;  and  invites  you 
to  enter  in,  and  be  saved.  The  Gospel  still  shines  to  direct  your 
feet,  and  to  quicken  your  pursuit  of  the  inestimable  prize. 
Saints  wait,  with  fervent  hope  of  renewing  their  joy  over  your  re- 
pentance. Angels  spread  their  wings  to  conduct  you  home.  The 
Father  holds  out  the  golden  sceptre  of  forgiveness,  that  you  may 
touch,  and  live.  The  Son  died  on  the  cross,  ascended  to  heaven, 
and  intercedes  before  the  throne  of  mercy,  that  you  may  be  ac- 
cepted. The  Spirit  of  grace  and  truth  descends  with  his  benev- 
olent influence,  to  allure  and  persuade  you. 

While  all  things,  and  God,  at  the  head  of  all  things,  are  thus 
kindly,  and  solemnly  employed,  to  encourage  you  in  the  pursuit 
of  this  inestimable  good,  will  you  forget,  that  you  have  souls, 
which  must  be  saved,  or  lost  ?  Will  you  forget,  that  the  only 
time  of  salvation  is  the  present  ?  that  beyond  the  grave  there  is 
no  Gospel  to  be  preached  ?  that,  there,  no  offers  of  life  are  to  be 
made  ?  that  no  Redeemer  will  there  expiate  your  sins  ;  and  no 
forgiving  God  receive  your  souls?  Of  what  immense  moment, 
then,  is  the  present  Hfe  !  How  invaluable  every  Sabbath  ;  every 
mean  of  salvation  !  Think  how  soon  your  last  sabbath  will  set 
in  darkness ;  and  the  last  sound  of  mercy  die  upon  your  ears  \ 
How  painful,  how  melancholy,  an  object,  to  a  compassionate  eyq, 
is  a  blind,  unfeeling,  unrepenting  im.nortal ! 

But,  O  ye  children  of  Zion,  in  all  the  perplexities  and  distress- 
es of  life,  let  the  Gospel  be  "  an  anchor  to  your  souls,  sure  and 
steadfast."     To  the  attainment  of  the  happiness,  which  it  unveils, 

Vol.  H,  61 


478    THE  DIGNITY  AND  EXCELLENCE  OF  THE  GOSPEL.  [SER.  XXX. 

consecrate  every  purpose,  and  bend  every  faculty.  In  the  day  of 
sloth,  let  it  quicken  you  to  energy.  In  the  hour  of  despondency, 
let  it  reanimate  your  hope.  In  the  season  of  wo,  let  it  pour 
"  the  balm  of  Gilead"  into  your  hearts.  View  every  blessing  as 
a  token  of  love  from  the  God,  to  whom  you  are  going;  as  a 
foretaste  of  immortal  good.  Stretch  your  imaginations  to  the 
utmost;  raise  your  wishes  higher  and  higher,  while  you  live*,  not 
a  thought  shall  miss  its  object :  not  a  wish  shall  be  disappointed. 
Eternity  is  now  heaping  up  its  treasures  for  your  possession.  The 
voice  of  Mercy,  with  a  sweet  and  transporting  sound,  bids  you 
"  arise,  and  come  away."  Your  fears,  your  sorrows,  your  sins, 
will  all  leave  you  at  the  grave.  See  the  gates  of  life  already  un- 
folding to  admit  you.  The  first-born  open  their  arms  to  welcome 
you  to  their  divine  assembly.  The  Saviour,  who  has  gone  before 
to  prepare  a  place  for  your  reception,  informs  you,  that  "all 
things  are  ready."  With  triumph,  then,  with  ecstasy,  hasten  to 
enjoy  the  reward  of  his  infinite  labours  in  an  universe  of  good, 
"  and  in  the  glory,  which  he  had  with  the  FatTier  before  ever  the 
world  was." 


SERMON  XXXI. 


THE  PREACHING  OF  PAUL  BEFORE  FELIX. 

A  SERMON  PREACHED  AT  THE  ORDINATION  OF  THE  REV.  SAMUEL 
MERWIN,  AS  PASTOR  OP  THE  UNITED  SOCIETY  IN  NEW-HAVEN, 
1805. 

Acts  J^xiv.  25. 

Atid  as  he  reasoned  of  righteousness^  temperance^  and  judg- 
ment to  come^  Felix  trembled ;  and  answered,  Go  thy  way  for 
this  time  ;  when  I  have  a  convenient  season,  I  will  call  for  thee. 

In  the  preceding  Chapter  we  are  informed,  that  certain  of  the 
Jews  banded  together,  and  bound  themselves  under  a  curse,  to 
kill  Paul.  In  consequence  of  this  conspiracy,  his  sister's  son, 
having  heard  of  their  design,  disclosed  it  to  Lysias,  the  Chief  Cap- 
tain or  principal  Roman  Officer,  who  resided  at  Jerusalem.  To 
prevent  the  execution  of  it,  Lysias  sent  Paul  to  Cesarea,  to  the 
custody  of  Felix,  the  Roman  Governor  of  Judea.  In  the  Context 
we  are  further  informed,  that  Ananias,  the  Chief  Priest,  and  other 
Jews  of  distinction,  appeared  at  Cesarea,  to  accuse  Paul  before 
the  Governor.  As  they  were  unable,  however,  to  support  their 
accusation,  Paul,  contrary  to  their  hopes,  escaped.  Still,  Felix, 
was  willing  to  gratify  them,  so  far  as  he  could  consistently  with 
the  appearance  of  propriety  ;  and,  therefore,  kept  him  confined 
at  Cesarea.  During  this  confinement,  it  seems,  he  frequently 
sent  for  him,  and  communed  with  him.  On  one  of  these  occa- 
sions at  least  he  gave  him  leave  to  discourse  concerning  the 
Faith  in  Christ. 


480  THE  PREACHING  OF  PAUL  |;SER.  XXXI. 

At  this  time  Diusilla,  here  called  his  wife,  was  present.  This 
woman  was  the  daughter  of  Herod  Agrippa  ;  was  contracted  to 
Epiphanes  ;  was  married  to  Azizus  ;  and  now  lived  in  adultery 
with  Felix.  Felix  himself,  therefore,  was  an  adulterer.  He  was 
also  an  iniquitous  ruler ;  as  is  evident  from  his  conduct  towards 
Paul.  Paul  was  accused,  but  was  cleared  ;  and  ought  to  have 
been  instantly  set  at  liberty.  Two  reasons  prevented  his  release  ; 
the  disposition  of  Felix  to  gratify  the  Jews,  and  his  hope  of  re- 
ceiving a  bribe  from  Paul.  Bolli  these  reasons  are  incapable  of 
being  felt  by  a  just  man  ;  yet  Felix  was  governed  by  them  both. 

Such  was  a  part  of  the  audience,  to  which  the  preaching  of  St. 
Paul,  mentioned  in  the  text,  was  addressed  ;  the  part,  to  which  it 
was  especially  addressed.  I  have  dwelt  on  the  subjects  of  this 
Introduction  the  more  particularly,  because  they  contribute  in  a 
peculiar  manner  to  the  illustration  of  the  text,  and  give  it  a  force 
and  importance  which  it  could  not  otherwise  possess. 

Considered  in  connection  with  this  story,  the  text  appears  to 
me  to  contain  one  of  the  most  perfect  single  accounts  of  the 
great  Duty  of  preaching  the  Gospel,  and  the  manner  in  which  it 
ought  to  be  performed,  to  be  found  in  the  Scriptures.  On  this 
Duty  only  do  I  intend  to  insist  in  the  following  discourse.  All  the 
other  duties  of  a  Minister,  together  with  those,  which  a  Church 
and  Congregation  are  bound  to  render  to  him  in  the  other  con- 
cerns of  his  Ministry,  I  shall  leave  to  be  inculcated  by  such,  as 
come  after  me  in  the  solemn  services  of  this  Day. 

In  the  account,  given  in  the  Text  of  St.  Paul's  preaching,  there 
are  three  things,  which  especially  merit  our  attention  : 

1st.   Tlie  Subjects,  and 

2dly.   The  Manner,  of  his  Preaching  ;  and 

3dly.   The  Effect  which  it  had  on  a  jjurt  of  his  audience. 

1  St.  The  Subjects  of  St.  PauVs  pj^eaching,  recited  in  the  Text, 
are  these  three ;  Righteousness,  Temperance,  and  Judgment  to 
come:  or,  more  agreeably  to  the  Greek,  Righteousness,  Self- 
Government,  and  the  Judgment  ivhich  shall  be  hereafter. 

Righteousness,  although  used  often  to  denote  moral  rectitude 
generally,  signifies,  in  its  original  and  proper  sense,  Justice  ;  the 


SER.  XXXI.]  BEFORE  FELIX,  481 

great  Duty  especially  of  Ilulers  in  the  execution  of  their  office  ; 
and  the  prime  Duty  of  Men  in  their  dealings  with  each  other. 
Nothing  could  have  been  more  properly  addressed  to  Felix.  This 
Man,  originally  a  Slave,  had  been  freed  by  the  Emperor  Nero  ; 
and  by  the  influence  of  his  brother  Pallas,  and  a  man  named 
Narcissus,  both  favourites  of  the  Emperor,  had  been  placed  as 
governor  over  the  Province  of  Judoa.  Tnere  ho  was  guilty  of 
the  most  enormous  and  barbarous  exactions  ;  hired  Doras  to  kill 
Jonathan,  the  High  Priest ;  practised  a  great  variety  of  other  cru- 
elties ;  and  became  in  the  end  so  odious  to  the  .lews,  that  they 
accused  him  publicly  to  the  Emperor.  So  gross  were  his  crimes, 
that  he  would  have  been  put  to  doath,  had  not  the  influence  of 
his  brother  Pallas  been  powerfully  exerted  to  save  his  life.  I 
need  not  inform  my  audience  how  greatly  such  a  man  needed  to 
have  the  Duty  of  Rigliteousness  explained  to  his  understanding, 
and  enforced  on  his  conscience. 

Temperance^  (or  more  literally  rendered,  Self-Government,) 
was  with  equal  propriety  addressed  to  Felix,  and  also  to  Drusilla. 
They  were  both,  at  this  time,  living  in  open  adultery.  On  the 
Duty  of  Continence  ;  for  this  appears  to  be  the  real  subject  of  the 
Apostle's  preaching,  here ;  on  the  great  Duty  of  Continence,  the 
virtue  directly  opposed  to  this  enormous  sin,  St.  Paul  addressed 
these  powerful  and  wicked  hearers. 

The  approaching  Judgment  was  the  last  subject,  on  which  St. 
Paul  insisted.  This  was  the  natural  and  proper  close  of  such  a 
discourse.  To  these  great,  dissolute,  abandoned  personages  a 
preacher  of  the  Gospel  still  had  access  through  the  final  Judg- 
ment. Before  that  Judgment  they,  together  with  all  others,  must 
appear  ;  must  give  their  account ;  must  be  judged  in  righteous- 
ness "  according  to  the  deeds  done  in  the  body  ;"  and  must  be 
rewarded  according  to  the  nature  of  their  conduct.  They  "  nei- 
ther feared  God,  nor  regard  man  -^  but  the  certainty  and  nature 
of  future  Judgment  were  capable  of  being  so  explained,  and 
brought  home  to  their  hearts,  as  to  rouse  their  slumbering  con- 
sciences, and  to  alarm  their  fears  concerning  their  approaching 
destiny. 


482  THE  PREACHING  OF  PAUL  [SER.  XXXI. 

2d)y.  We  have,  here  mentioned,  not  only  the  Subjects,  but  also 
the  Manner,  of  PuuVs  preaching.  As  he  reasoned  of  Righteous- 
ness, Temperance,  and  Judgment  to  come,  Felix  trembled. 

The  meaning  is,  that  the  Preacher  explained,  and  proved, 
Righteousness,  Temperance,  and  Judgment  to  come  ;  and  thus 
solemnly  enforced  them  on  the  consciences  of  his  hearers. 

3dly.  The  effect  of  these  Subjects,  handled  in  this  Manner,  is 
also  recited.  Felix  trembled^  and  answered,  "  Go  thy  way,  for 
this  time  ;  when  I  have  a  more  convenient  season,  I  will  call  for 
thee.'' 

If  we  consider  the  wickedness  of  Felix  ;  the  power,  which  he 
had  over  Paul,  of  life  and  death  ;  his  peculiar  hardness  of  heart ; 
the  splendour  of  his  circumstances  ;  and  the  superstition  in  which 
he  had  been  educated  ;  we  shall  easily  conclude,  that  the  preach- 
ing, which  produced  so  great  an  efiect  on  such  a  man,  must  cer- 
tainly be  of  the  most  excellent  kind,  and  most  happily  formed  to 
operate  successfully  on  the  heart  of  Man. 

From  these  considerations,  plain  and  indisputable  in  them- 
selves, and  therefore  needing  no  extended  discussion  for  the  pres- 
ent purpose,  I  derive  the  following  Remarks. 

1st.  The  Preacher,  icho  woidd  preach  as  Paul  preached,  will 
directly  disclose  the  sins,  dangers,  duty,  and  safety,  of  his 
hearers. 

Paul  directly  addressed  to  Felix  and  Drusilla  the  great  duties 
of  Righteousness  and  Continence,  the  sins  of  injustice  and  pollu- 
tion, and  the  danger,  to  which  by  these  sins  they  were  exposed 
at  the  coming  Judgment.  These  were  their  peculiar  duties,  their 
peculiar  sins,  and  their  peculiar  dangers.  If  a  Preacher  would 
be  like  Paul  in  integrity,  in  wisdom,  or  in  success,  he  will  take 
effectual  care  to  preach  in  the  same  manner. 

Were  all  preachers  to  be  asked,  one,  by  one,  whether  they 
would  wish  to  resemble  Paul ;  there  can  scarcely  be  a  doubt, 
that  each  would  answer  in  the  affirmative  ;  and  be  not  a  little  of- 
fended, to  find  the  sincerity  of  the  answer  called  into  question. 
But  in  the  language  of  the  great  English  Poet  Cowper,  to  whom 


SER.  XXXI.]  BEFORE  FELIX.  483 

1  shall  take  the  liberty  of  appealing  on  the  present  occasion,  with- 
out reserve,  I  ask, 

"Are  all  such  teachers  ?  Would  to  Heaven  all  were  !" 

There  are  undoubtedly  those  in  the  sacred  desk,  who  never  dvvell 
on  the  sins  or  the  dangers,  the  duty  or  the  safety,  of  their  hearers; 
but  studiously  avoid  these  solemn  subjects,  lest  they  should  give 
pain,  or  become  unpopular.  There  are  those,  who  spend  the  sa- 
cred and  heavenly  season,  allotted  especially  to  the  dispensation 
of  the  word  of  life,  in  uttering  mere  addresses  to  passion,  and 
holding  up  pictures  to  the  imagination  ;  brilliant,  perhaps,  and 
beautiful ;  eloquent  and  interesting ;  fitted  to  amuse  the  fancy, 
and  agitate  the  feelings ;  but  not  fitted  to  enlighten  the  con- 
science, or  mend  the  heart.  There  are  those,  who  preach  the 
icy  morality  of  Plato,  Seneca,  and  Aurelius  ;  and  plainly  declare 
by  their  practice,  that  they  think  Cicero  and  Socrates  better 
preachers  than  the  Saviour  and  his  Apostles.  There  are  those, 
who  waste  the  Sabbath  in  useless  metaphysical  disquisitions ;  in 
making  distinctions,  which,  like  the  lines  of  the  Spider,  are  invi- 
sible, except  to  an  eye  fixed  in  a  peculiar  position,  and  possessed 
of  peculiar  acuteness:  and  which,  when  seen,  are,  like  the  same 
lines,  of  no  possible  use  to  man.  All  these,  and  many  others, 
do  not  preach  like  Paul.  He  always  seized  the  subjects,  which 
were  most  likely  to  be  useful  to  his  hearers ;  the  subjects,  there- 
fore, which  they  could  understand,  and  the  subjects,  which  they 
could  not  fail  to  feel.  Sinners,  he  knew,  were  guilty  and  hateful 
in  the  sight  of  God,  were  condemned  by  his  most  holy  Law  to 
everlasting  punishment,  and  were  exposed  of  course  to  final  ruin. 
These  amazing  truths  he  addressed  to  them  directly.  They  were 
plain  truths,  which  sinners  could  not  but  discern  ;  and  solemn 
truths,  which  they  could  not  but  feel.  They  were  truths,  which 
demanded  and  admitted  no  wiredrawn  disquisition  ;  and  rejected 
with  scorn  all  wand^ings,  sports,  and  prettinesses  of  fancy.  That 
they  would  give  pain  to  his  hearers  he  perfectly  knew  beforehand ; 
and  for  that  very  reason  chose  them  in  preference  to  all  other 
subjects.     No  sinner,  he  clearly  perceived,  was  ever  brought  ir^ 


484  THE  PREACHING  OF  PAUL  [SER.  XXXI 

repentance,  but  under  the  alarm  and  distress,  occasioned  by  a 
convincing  sense  of  his  sins.  The  distress,  therefore,  was  indis- 
pensable to  the  sinner's  well-being.  With  this  knowledge  also, 
and  the  solemn  emotions  which  it  produced,  his  heart  would  have 
been  frozen,  if  he  could  have  repeated  the  seesaw  morals  of 
heathen  philosophy.  But  he  could  not  have  repeated  them. 
His  Soul  was  too  intensely  warm  with  love  to  his  hearers.  "  Know- 
ing the  terrors  of  the  Lord,"  as  revealed  against  sinners,  he 
"  persuaded  men  to  flee  from  the  wrath  to  come,  and  to  lay  hold 
on  Eternal  life." 

With  these  awful  things  in  view,  he  asked  not  the  question : 
Whether  his  hearers  would  be  pleased,  or  displeased  ;  but  en- 
quired merely  how  he  might  promote  their  salvation.  Never 
was  a  preacher  presented  with  stronger  temptations  to  indulge 
the  fear  of  man.  Felix  was  the  supreme  Ruler  of  the  coun- 
try ;  held  the  power  of  life  and  death  in  his  hands ;  and  now 
sat  in  judgment  on  Paul  himself  He  was  also  an  enormous 
sinner ;  an  oppressor ;  an  adulterer ;  a  murderer.  By  his  side 
sat  Drusilla ;  a  woman  false,  lewd,  and  hardened  ;  an  apos- 
tate from  the  religion  of  her  nation,  dictated  by  God  himself; 
and  openly  defying  conscience,  shame,  and  retribution.  Paul, 
in  the  mean  time  was  a  prisoner,  on  trial  for  his  life  ;  accused  by 
the  great  council  of  his  country  -,  forsaken  ;  friendless  ;  and  ve- 
hemently hated  by  the  body  of  his  nation.  Yet  in  this  very  sit- 
uation of  depression  and  danger,  the  Apostle,  with  an  integrity 
and  benevolence  transcending  all  praise,  addressed,  without  dis- 
guise or  apology,  to  these  splendid  and  formidable  sinners  the 
very  truths  which  they  needed  most  to  know  ;  reproved  them 
solemnly  for  the  sins,  of  which  they  were  especially  guilty ;  and 
warned  them  of  the  infinite  danger,  to  which  they  were  peculiar- 
ly exposed.  In  this  manner  he  laboured  as  far  as  was  possible, 
to  recall  them  to  the  duties,  which  they  had  forgotten ;  and  to 
lead  them  to  the  safety,  which  they  could  in  no  other  way  obtain. 
This  example,  sanctioned  by  Inspiration,  and  thus  invested  with 
divine  authority,  proclaims  to  every  Minister  of  the  Gospel,  "  Go 
thou,  and  do  likewise." 


SER.  XXXI.]  BEFORE  FELIX.  48^ 

2dly.  Every  such  Minister  will  fill  his  discourses  with  truth 
and  conviction. 

Paul  reasoned  of  these  great  subjects  ;  explaining,  proving,  and 
discussing,  them  thoroughly ;  so  that  they  were  understood,  be- 
lieved, and  felt,  by  his  audience.  He  did  not,  like  a  Heathen 
Sophist,  or  like  TertuUus  in  the  context,  or  like  many  a  man,  who 
has  stood  in  the  place  of  a  Preacher,  dress  up  an  ingenious,  en- 
tertaining, courtly  harangue,  suited  to  the  nice  and  fastidious  pal- 
ate of  his  guest ;  used,  as  he  may  be  presumed  to  have  been,  to 
dainties  of  this  nature.  Paul's  business  was  not  to  flatter,  but 
to  convince  and  awaken  ;  not  to  please,  but  to  reform  and  save. 

He  did  not  attempt  to  display  his  own  superior  talents,  in  an 
eloquent  declamation,  adorned  with  fine  images  of  fancy,  or  pa- 
thetic effusions  of  passion.  On  the  contrary,  he  entered  at  once 
upon  his  proper  business  ;  declared  those  solemn  truths,  which 
respected  the  sin  and  danger,  the  recovery  and  salvation,  of  his. 
hearers  ;  and  enforced  them  by  arguments,  which  could  neither 
be  refuted,  nor  resisted. 

The  Truth  of  God,  not  the  pictures  of  fancy,  nor  the  effusions 
of  passion,  will,  if  any  thing  will,  "  make  mankind  free  from  the 
bondage  of  Sin  and  Death."  The  proof  of  this  is  complete. 
The  Heathen  philosophers  and  poets,  and  the  host  of  modern 
infidels,  have  exhibited  such  images  and  effusions,  through  sev- 
eral thousand  years,  in  very  many  delightful  forms,  and,  in  many 
instances,  with  as  much  genius,  and  strength,  as  can  be  hoped 
for  by  man,  and  far  more  than  can  be  displayed  by  most  men : 
yet  they  have  never  reformed,  nor  saved,  a  single  child  of  Adam. 
These  images  and  effusions  cannot,  therefore,  accomplish  this 
great  design ;  and  will  prove  as  fruitless  in  the  hands  of  Chris- 
tian Ministers,  as  in  those  of  poets  and  philosophers. 

All  this  might  indeed  be  easily  and  perfectly  foreseen.  We 
have,  and  can  have,  no  interest  in  any  thing,  but  truth.  Fictions 
of  fancy  may  please,  passion  may  affect  us  ;  and  in  any  degree  : 
but  in  the  objects  of  both  we  are  perfectly  unconcerned,  as  to 
every  real  interest.  That  which  has  been,  is,  and  will  be,  con- 
tains our  all.     Our  past  character,  our  present  conduct,  and  our 

Vol.  H.  62 


486  'iHE  PJREAUHINU  OF  PAUL  [SER.  XXXL 

future  lot ;  are  every  thing  to  us  which  is  of  any  real  moment. 
This  truth,  and  truth  alone,  declares.  But  truth,  in  order  to  be 
seen  to  be  truth,  must,  in  almost  all  cases,  be  evinced  to  be  truth 
by  solid  and  immoveable  arguments.  When  thus  evinced  it  be- 
comes, in  our  view,  an  account  of  that,  in  which  hes,  and  is  thus 
seen  to  lie,  our  real  and  whole  well  being.  By  truth,  thus  evin- 
ced, we  are,  therefore,  seriously  and  permanently  affected,  forced 
to  deep  consideration,  led  to  form  plans  of  future  action,  and 
compelled  to  labour  at  least  for  our  saiety  and  welfare.  These 
things  no  efforts  of  imagination  or  passion,  ever  accomplished  ; 
nor  can  accomplish.  Whatever  else  may  be  said  of  these  efforts, 
it  cannot  be  said,  that  they  are  truth,  or  the  means  of  evincing 
truth.  Had  Paul  used  them  with  the  highest  possible  ingenuity 
and  success,  Felix  would  never  have  trembled  at  his  represen- 
tations. 

I  well  know,  that  these  brilliant  exhibitions  are  highly  enter- 
taining to  mankind  ;  and  that  the  successful  authors  of  them  are 
greatly  admired  and  applauded.  I  know  also,  that  they  are, 
therefore,  greatly  coveted  by  others,  and  the  Exhibitors  sedulous- 
ly imitated  by  multitudes,  at  the  present  time.  I  see,  or  think  1 
see,  with  deep  regret,  both  in  Great  Britain  and  this  country,  a 
constant  leaning  to  what  I  should  call,  not  preachings  hut  pulpit 
•exhibitions.  The  scheme  of  such  exhibitions  appears  to  be,  to 
write  like  some  of  the  ancient  historians  and  rhetoricians,  not 
truth,  but  handsome  compositions  ;  made  up  of  brilliant  images, 
and  striking  and  pleasing  sentiments  of  passion,  and  adorned 
with  fine  figurative  language,  bold  exclamations,  and  pompous 
phraseology.  These,  delivered  with  theatrical  tones  and  gestures, 
carefully  studied  and  artfully  practised,  are  what  seems  now  to 
be  esteemed  by  multitudes  the  perfection  of  preaching.  Accord- 
ingly, snch  as  exhibit  these  things  in  this  manner  are  greatly  com- 
mended, and  followed  with  eagerness  and  admiration. 

Were  this  subject  to  be  regarded  only  as  a  matter  of  taste,  it 
might  perhaps  be  worth  the  time  and  labour  of  a  critic  to  shew, 
that  the  scheme,  which  I  reprobate,  is  equally  a  violation  of  cor- 
rect taste,  and  of  duty.     But  it  can  scarcely  merit  a  sober  discus- 


SER.  XXXI.]  BEFORE  FELIX.  487 

sion  from  the  desk.  I  shall  only  observe,  that  this  was  not  the 
conduct  of  Pericles,  Demosthenes,  nor  even  of  Cicero,  when  in 
earnest ;  much  less  was  it  that  of  Chatham.  These  great  men 
in  ail  their  fervid  addresses  to  their  countrymen  laboured,  like  per- 
sons of  real  business,  to  shew  them  their  real  faults,  errors,  dan- 
gers, and  duties  ;  to  evince  the  truths,  which  they  taught,  by  ir- 
resistible arguments  ;  and  to  make  their  audiences  feel  and  act, 
because  truth  so  powerfully  demanded  it.  This  is  the  way  of 
nature,  and  the  true  road  to  success.  He,  who  would  acquire 
thd  success  which  they  acquired,  must  follow  the  path  which  they 
trod. 

In  the  desk  the  preacher  is  bound  to  remember,  that  he  is  the 
Messenger  of  God  to  a  guilty,  ruined  world  ;  that  the  Message, 
which  he  brings,  is  delivered  to  him  by  his  great  Master,  and  con- 
sists of  the  truths,  which  he  has  been  pleased  to  declare  ;  and  that 
he  is  bound  to  disclose  it  to  others,  just  as  he  has  received  it  from 
God.  He  is  bound  to  remember,  that  he  is  professedly  standing 
in  that  awful  place,  to  invite  and  compel  Sinners  to  repent,  and 
Saints  to  increase  in  wisdom  and  grace  ;  that  their  salvation  is 
the  great  errand,  on  which  he  is  sent ;  and  that,  if  they  be  not 
saved,  they  must  perish.  With  these  affecting  objects  in  view, 
can  he  possibly  spend  his  time  in  trifling  ;  in  amusing  his  audience 
with  fine  efforts  of  fancy  and  passion  ;  in  culling  tropes  and 
figures  to  gratify  their  taste  ;  or  in  assuming  the  character  and 
arts  of  a  Stage-player  ?  In  the  language  of  the  poet,  already 
quoted — 

"  What,  will  a  man  play  tricks  ?    Will  he  indulg* 
A  silly,  fond  conceit  of  his  fair  form, 
And  just  proportion,  fashionable  mien. 
And  pretty  face,  in  presence  of  his  God  ? 
Or  will  he  seek  to  dazzle  me  with  tropes, 
And  play  his  brilliant  parts  before  my  eyes, 
When  I  am  hungry  for  the  bread  of  life  ? 
He  mocks  his  Maker ;  prostitutes,  and  shameS; 
His  noble  office  ;  and,  instead  of  truth 
Displaying  his  own  beauty,  starves  his  flock. 
Therefore  avaunt !  all  attitude,  and  stare, 
And  start  theatric,  practised  at  the  glass. 


488  1'HE  PREACHINGf  OF  PAUL  [SER.  XXXI. 

I  seek  divine  simplicity  in  him, 

Who  handles  things  divine ;  and  all  beside, 

Though  learn'd  with  labour,  and  though  much  admir'd 

By  cuNous  eyes,  and  judgments  ill-inforra'd, 

To  me  is  odious." 

TJie  preacher,  who  fee]s  as  Paul  felt,  will  come  to  the  desk 
filled  with  the  desire,  and  the  design,  of  accomplishing  the  salva- 
tion of  his  flock.  This,  the  great  end  of  preaching,  will  fix  his 
eye  ;  fill  his  heart ;  and  inspire,  control,  and  direct,  all  his  eftbrts. 
To  effectuate  this  end,  he  will  at  once  apply  himself  to  his  proper 
and  only  business.  The  word  of  God  lies  open  before  him.  From 
this,  the  sole  source  of  all  the  means  and  hopes  of  eternal  life,  he 
will  derive  the  great  considerations  with  which  he  is  to  affect  both 
saints  and  sinners.  There  he  will  find,  even  without  searching, 
that  all  men  by  nature  are  guilty  and  ruined  ;  that,  left  to  them- 
selves, they  cannot  escape  ;  that  the  Law  of  God,  in  itself,  per- 
fectly reasonable  and  righteous,  and,  like  its  glorious  Author,  un- 
changeable in  its  nature,  has  condemned  them  by  an  unalterable 
sentence.  There  he  will  also  find  the  "  Glad  Tidings  of  great 
joy,  that  there  is  born  unto  them  a  Saviour,  who  is  Christ  the 
Lord  ;"  that  through  Repentance  of  sin.  Faith  in  his  name,  and 
Holiness  of  heart  and  life,  they  may  be  interested  in  the  blessings 
which  he  died  to  purchase.  There  he  will  find  displayed,  with 
the  wisdom  and  skill  of  an  Infinite  hand,  all  the  interests,  duties, 
and  hopes,  of  man.  He  will  find  them  also  displayed  in  every 
manner,  calculated  to  enlighten  the  understanding,  and  to  affect 
the  heart.  He  will  find  them  portrayed  in  ten  thousand  forms 
and  varieties,  fitted  to  every  mind  and  awakening  every  feeling ; 
immensely  great  and  glorious  in  themselves ;  solemn  and  awful 
beyond  example  ;  and  able  "  like  the  fire  and  the  hammer,  to 
break  the  rock  in  pieces."  There  he  will  find  all  that  he  needs, 
to  alarm,  awaken,  convince,  and  repiove  the  Sinner  ;  or  to  in- 
struct, amend,  and  edify,  the  Christian.  The  truth,  contained 
in  this  "  Word  of  God,"  and  nothing  else,  he  will  by  experience 
learn,  unless  his  eyes  are  dull  of  seeing,  and  his  ears  of  hearing, 
"  is  quick  and  powerful,  sharper  than  any  two-edged  sword,  pier- 


SER.  XXXI.]  BEFORE  FELIX.  489 

ciiig  even  to  the  dividing  asunder  of  the  soul  and  the  spirit,  of 
the  joints  and  the  marrow,  and  proving  a  discerner  of  the  thoughts 
and  intents  of  the  heart."  These  truths,  therefore,  wiU  consti- 
tuie  the  sum  and  substance  of  all  that  he  declares  to  his  people. 

But  it  will  be  his  constant  aun  to  shew  that  they  are  truths  ; 
and  that  itiey  are  the  truths,  which  Goo  himself  has  spoken.  To 
this  end,  he  will,  like  Paul,  thoroughly  discuss  them.  Whatever 
he  thinks  obscure,  or  doubtful,  he  will  explain,  or  confirm.  What- 
ever arguments  or  elucidations  he  finds  necessary,  he  will  derive 
from  the  same  Word,  the  Providence  of  God,  and  the  nature  and 
history  of  Man ;  subjects  intended  by  God  himself  to  illustrate, 
and  therefore  always  actually  illustrating,  each  other.  The  end, 
which  he  will  first  propose  to  himself,  will  ever  be  to  shew  men 
their  true  situation,  their  real  guilt,  their  actual  danger,  and  their 
only  escape.  To  this  end  he  will,  so  far  as  human  infirmity  will 
permit,  make  all  his  eftbrts  subservient.  Nothing  will  be  admit- 
ted by  him  into  his  discourses  except  that  which  he  thinks  will 
promote  this  end.  He  will  strive  to  write  and  to  speak  as  well  as 
is  in  his  power ;  but  he  will  write  and  speak  nothing  to  display 
his  powers.  He  will  consider  that  as  the  best  of  all  sermons 
which  leaves  the  strongest  impression  of  its  subject  on  the  minds 
of  his  Hearers,  and  leaves  them  least  inclined  and  least  at  leisure 
either  to  censure  or  admire  the  preacher.  That,  on  the  contra- 
ry, which  produces  only  or  principally  admiration  and  applause 
to  himself,  he  will  consider  as  an  idle  piece  of  amusement ;  in 
which  Christ  and  God  and  his  hearers  are  forgotten,  and  his  own 
ambition  and  vanity  only  are  consulted,  flattered,  and  idolized. 

It  may  here  be  asked,  Whether  I  am  inclined  to  discourage,  or 
reject,  all  efforts  of  Eloquence  in  the  desk  ?  My  answer  is,  that 
that  is  genuine  Eloquence,  which  I  have  described  ;  the  manner 
of  addressing  mankind,  which  leaves  them  most  deeply  impressed 
with  the  truth  and  importance  of  the  subject.  That  is  the  most 
perfect  eloquence  of  the  desk,  which  leaves  the  sinner  most  sol- 
emn, alarmed,  awakened,  and  determined  to  exert  himself  to  find 
a  way  of  escape  -,  or  the  saint  most  edified,  refreshed,  and 
-strengthened  to  amendment.     Here  the  discourse  grows  entirely 


490  THE  PREACHING  OP  PAUL  [SER.  XXXI. 

out  of  the  preacher's  own  conviction  of  the  truth  and  importance 
of  what  he  declares ;  and  all  the  impression,  which  it  makes,  out 
of  the  same  conviction  wrought  in  his  hearers.  Withdraw  the 
truth,  the  evidence,  the  certainty,  the  reahly,  of  the  things  repre- 
sented from  the  representation ;  and  it  would  become  a  dead 
letter,  productive  of  no  effect.  Every  emotion,  every  image, 
which  is  found  in  it,  is  the  natural  and  necessary  offspring  of  the 
preacher's  own  views  of  the  affecting  truths  which  he  utters. 
Such  truths  cannot  fail  to  be  felt  by  a  religious  mind,  when  sol- 
emnly contemplating  them  ;  nor  to  be  so  exhibited  by  such  a 
mind,  as  to  make  others  feel  them,  when  fairly  proved  to  be 
truths. 

The  way  to  the  heart,  by  which  I  intend  the  great,  controlling 
faculty  of  Man  ;  the  faculty,  by  which  he  moves,  and  acts,  as  a 
rational  being  ;  is  through  the  Conscience,  and  not  through  the 
imagination  and  the  passions.  Conscience  is  nothing,  but  the 
Mind  judging  of  moral  subjects  ;  of  truth  and  falsehood,  right  and 
wrong.  This  judgment  is  necessarily  formed  only  by  means  of 
evidence  ;  and,  when  just  and  useful,  is  conformed  to  truth.  To 
enable  the  conscience  to  act,  it  must  therefore  be  furnished  with 
evidence,  and  be  able  to  discern  what  is  true.  This  the  Preach- 
er can  accomplish  only  by  sound  and  solid  arguments  ;  evincing, 
beyond  a  doubt,  that  that  which  he  urges  is  true,  and  that  which 
he  reproves  is  false.  To  a  sinner,  stupid  in  his  sins,  and  devoted 
to  sensual  pursuits,  of  what  importance  can  be  the  pictures  of 
fancy,  however  solemn,  or  however  beautiful  ?  Can  they  show 
him  his  danger,  guilt,  or  recovery  ?  To  rouse  him  from  his  slum- 
bers, and  withdraw  him  from  iniquity,  he  must  discern,  that  his 
soul  is  really  sinful,  guilty,  endangered,  and,  in  his  present  condi- 
tion, lost.  To  a  sinner  convinced  of  all  these  things,  the  same 
pictures  can  be  nothing,  but  mere  toys  and  gewgaws  to  his  eye, 
mere  trash  to  his  palate.  In  his  case,  all  that  is  important,  all 
that  is  good,  lies  only  in  knowing,  and  pursuing,  the  real  way  of 
escape.  This  can  be  shewn  by  truth  and  evidence  only.  Truth 
and  evidence,  therefore,  are  all,  with  which  he  has,  or  can  have, 
any  concern.     The  same  observations  are,  with  the  same  force, 


SER,  XXXI.]  BEFORE  FELIX.  491 

fipplicable  to  the  Christian  in  every  situation  ;  whether  he  is  back- 
slic!in<i;,  or  advancnig,  in  the  Christian  course.  Nothing  can  be 
interesting  to  him  except  truth  :  and  truth  is  interesting,  only  as 
it  is  shewn  to  be  truth  by  its  proper  evidence. 

All  that  can  be  said  in  favour  of  the  images  of  fancy,  and  the 
expressions  of  passion,  as  introduced  into  sermons,  is  this  :  the 
preacher,  who  feels  the  solemn  and  affecting  subjects  of  his  dis- 
course, will  like  the  prophets  and  apostles,  and  like  Christ  him- 
self, exhibit  his  feelings  while  he  is  discoursing,  and  disclose  the 
truths  which  he  teaches,  and  the  duties  which  he  inculcates,  with 
that  earnestness  with  which  he  feels  them.  When  the  mind  feels 
strongly,  the  imagination  is  naturally  vivid  ;  and  will  form  bolder 
thoughts  and  stronger  images,  than  when  it  is  calm.  The  lan- 
guage, also,  will  then  be  more  ardent  and  impassioned  ;  and  the 
whole  discourse  will  assume  a  higher  and  more  impressive  char- 
acter. All  this,  every  preacher  will  acknowledge  and  practice  ; 
while  his  sole  business  will  still  be  to  teach  the  truth  of  God. 
The  only  reasons  why  his  mind  will  thus  feel  and  his  discourses 
thus  glow,  are  the  reality  and  importance  of  this  truth,  the  strong 
sense  of  these  things  in  his  own  mind,  and  his  earnest  desire  to 
communicate  his  own  views  to  his  hearers.  Whatever  images 
he  displays,  whatever  applications,  hemakes  to  the  passions  of 
his  audience,  will  be  admitted  into  his  discourse,  merely  because 
they  offer  themselves,  unsought,  to  a  mind  possessed  of  such 
views.  Instead  of  being  the  soul  and  substance,  they  will  be 
only  the  form  and  the  dress,  united  to  that  truth  and  argument, 
which  are  the  real  soul.  In  this  manner  they  will  have  propriety 
and  use ;  but  in  this  manner  only. 

The  difference  between  these  two  modes  of  preaching  is  this : 
that  which  I  recommend,  and  which  Paul  adopted,  aims  only  at 
accomplishing  the  end  of  all  preaching  by  the  direct  and  natural 
means ;  the  means  used  by  all  men  of  real  business,  when  ad- 
dressing their  fellow  men,  with  a  design  to  compass  an  important 
end.  The  end  of  the  preacher  is  to  produce  the  salvation  of 
those  who  hear.  The  means  are  a  display  of  those  truths,  which 
^on  has  taught  for  this  purpose,  made  in  such  a  manner,  as  t© 


492  THE  PREACHING  OF  PAUL  [SER.  XXXI. 

persuade  them  that  they  are  truths,  and  truths  in  which  them- 
selves are  personally  and  infinitely  interested.  The  mode,  which 
I  reprove,  aims  at  displaying,  with  peculiar  advantaffe,  the  pow- 
ers and  accomplishments  of  the  preacher.  The  difference  be- 
tween the  ends  is  infinite,  and  between  the  modes  of  preaching 
incalculable. 

Metaphysical  preaching,  although  it  seems  to  coincide  with 
that  which  is  here  urged,  and  to  unfoid  divine  truth  to  an  audi- 
ence, is  substantially  opposed  to  it.  That  which  it  teaches  may 
be  true ;  and  the  arguments  used  to  support  it  may  be  sound ; 
but  the  distinctions,  even  in  this  case,  are  so  subtile,  and  the  rea 
soning  so  abstruse  and  difficult,  that  the  hearer's  attention  to  the 
truth  is  lost  in  his  attention  to  the  preacher's  ingenuity  ;  his  mind 
prevented  from  feeling  what  is  intended  by  the  absorption  of  his 
thoughts  in  the  difficulties  of  the  argument ;  and  his  heart  chilled 
by  the  cold  manner,  in  which  all  such  discussions  are  conducted. 
The  Metaphysician,  whether  aware  of  it  or  not,  is  employed  in 
the  same  business  with  the  brilhant  man;  viz.  in  displaying  his 
own  ingenuity,  and  not  in  disclosing  and  confirming  the  truth  of 
God.  His  discourses,  if  ingenious  and  just,  are  merely  ingenious, 
and  usually  empty,  speculations  ;  in  which  few  of  his  hearers  will 
follow  him,  and  by  which  none  of  them  will  be  profited ;  eviden- 
ces, indeed,  of  his  own  powers  of  discrimination,  but  not  means 
of  salvation  to  mankind, 

I  have  hitherto  supposed  the  best  of  this  manner  of  preaching; 
a  character  which  it  sometimes,  but  almost  never,  has.  Usually, 
it  is  a  mere  effort  of  little  minds  to  appear  great ;  a  mass  of  dis- 
tinctions without  differences  to  support  them ;  a  bundle  of  per- 
plexities, which  only  puzzle  the  preacher,  and  distract  or  disgust 
his  hearers.  It  deserves  attention  from  every  preacher,  that 
men,  really  and  greatly  distinguished  for  metaphysical  talents, 
have  rarely,  if  ever,  preached  metaphysical  sermons. 

Distinctions,  which  are,  or  which  can  be  made,  obvious,  are 
the  only  distinctions,  whicii  should  ever  employ  discourses  deliv- 
ered to  popular  assemblies.  All  the  preacher's  illustrations  should 
be  drawn,  according  to  Cicero's  direction  to  his  Orator,  de  medio  j 


*^ER.  XXXI.]  BEFORE  FELIX.  '  493 

from  the  common  objects,  with  which  men  are  customarily  ac- 
quainted. These  are  wholly  better,  clearer,  and  more  forcible, 
than  any  other.  Accordingly  we  find  such  illustrations,  and  such 
only,  used  by  Christ,  the  Prophets,  and  the  Apostles,  in  all  their 
discourses. 

"  Would  I  describe  a  Preacher,"  says  the  excellent  Poet,  whom 
I  have  before  quoted, 

"Would  I  describe  a  Preacher,  such  as  Paul, 
Were  he  on  earth,  would  hear,  approve,  and  own, 
Paul  should  himself  direct  me.     I  would  trace 
His  master  strokes,  and  draw  from  his  design. 
I  would  express  him  simple,  grave,  sincere  5 
In  doctrine  uncorrupt ;  in  language  plain ; 
And  plain  in  manner:  Decent,  solemn,  chaste, 
And  natural  in  gesture :    Much  impress'd 
Himself,  as  conscious  of  his  awful  charge  ; 
And  anxious  mainly  that  the  flock,  he  feeds, 
May  feel  it  too :    Affectionate  in  look. 
And  tender  in  address,  as  well  becomes 
A  Messenger  of  Grace  to  guilty  man." 

In  a  word,  let  the  Minister  forget  himself,  and  think  only  on 
his  business,  and  on  the  means  of  accomplishing  it.  Let  him  ask 
himself,  what  considerations  would  most  convince  him  of  his 
duty,  and  persuade  him  to  embrace  eternal  life ;  let  him  direct 
all  his  efforts  to  produce  the  same  conviction  and  persuasion  in 
his  hearers ;  and  there  will,  with  the  ordinary  blessing  of  God, 
be  little  danger  that  he  will  fail  of  preaching  with  wisdom  and 
success. 

3dly.  Such  a  Preacher  will^  without  reserve,  address  himself 
boldly  and  directly  to  the  consciences  of  his  hearers. 

Of  this  conduct  the  Text  furnishes  us  with  a  glorious  example. 
Paul,  humble  as  he  was,  endangered  as  he  was,  and  great  and 
guilty  as  his  hearers  were,  came  directly  home  to  their  conscien- 
ces. He  did  not  go  round  about  with  his  discourse,  to  insinuate 
cautiously  the  truths  which  he  wished  to  teach.  He  did  not  at- 
tempt to  secure  their  favour  and  his  own  safety,  by  soft  address- 
es, amusing  speculations,  or  lying  panegyrics. 

Vol.  H,  fi3 


494  THE  PREACHING  OF  PAUL  [SER.  XXXI. 

On  the  contrary,  he  set  their  guilt,  their  danger,  and  their  duty, 
directly  before  their  faces.  He  held  up  to  them  the  mirror  of  the 
Gospel,  and  shewed  them  their  true  resemblance ;  awful  in  its 
form,  and  terrible  in  its  colourSo  The  image  was  their  own;  and 
so  striking  ;i  likeness  that  it  could  not  be  mistaken.  Felix  trem- 
bled ;  and  confessed  himself  unable  to  endure  the  sight. 

What  Paul  did  on  this  occasion,  all  Ministers  of  the  GospeL 
so  far  as  they  are  able,  are  bound  to  do.  Every  Minister,  when 
he  comes  into  the  desk,  should  remember,  what  office  he  sus- 
tains^ loho  sent  him;  to  whom  he  is  sent;  and  for  what  purpose. 
He  is  a  Preacher  of  truth  and  righteousness ;  a  Messenger  from 
the  Lord  Jesus  Christ;  sent  to  sinful,  perishing  men;  and  sent  to 
accomplish  their  salvation.  How  solemn  the  office  ;  how  great 
and  glorious  the  Author  of  it ;  how  pitiable  and  distressed  the 
objects ;  how  divine  the  purpose !  With  infinite  authority  the 
awful  Being,  whose  message  he  is  sent  to  deliver,  requires  him  to 
deliver  it  faithfully  ;  and  in  no  wise  to  "  shun,"  or  neglect,  "  to 
declare  all  the  counsel  of  God"  to  his  hearers.  With  a  cogency, 
only  inferior  to  that  authority,  the  infinite  danger  of  his  flock 
compels  him  to  the  same  duty.  The  All-searching  Eye,  with 
clear  and  piercing  view  unceasingly  surveys  his  heart  and  his 
conduct ;  to  mark  the  manner,  in  which  he  performs  this  duty. 
Before  him  a  multitude  of  immortal  beings,  who  may  be  saved, 
and  who,  if  not  saved,  will  be  lost ;  plead  with  silent  but  over- 
whelming eloquence  for  a  punctilious  discharge  of  his  Ministry. 
God  has  declared,  that  if  he,  and  they,  are  faithful,  "  he  shall 
save  both  himself  and  those  that  hear  him."  How  can  any  man, 
thus  circumstanced,  prove  unfaithful  ? 

The  Message  is  sent  by  the  Creator  of  all  men ;  of  kings  and 
beggars  alike.  It  is  sent  alike  to  all  men  ;  both  great  and  small. 
Can  he  fear  and  betray  the  former  ?  Can  he  forget  and  ruin  the 
latter  ? 

Away  then  with  all  trifling  from  this  solemn  scene,  with  all  dis- 
plays of  talents,  brilliancy,  sagacity,  eloquence !  Away  with  all 
displays  of  the  Preacher;  with  all  remembrance  of  himself 
with  all  prettinesses  of  thought  and  language!  Away  with  all 


SER.  XXXI.]  BEFORE  FELIX.  495 

the  fear  and  flattery  of  Man  !  with  all  the  homage,  customarily 
rendered  to  gieatness,  power,  and  splendour.  Felix  is  no  longer 
a  governor ;  a  judge  ;  a  man  who  controls  life  and  death.  Paul 
is  no  longer  a  prisoner,  in  question  for  his  life,  and  suspended 
over  the  grave.  Paul  is  an  Embassador  of  the  Eternal  God, 
come  to  proclaim  his  awful  pleasure  to  the  creatures  whom  he 
has  made.  His  audience  are  all  raised,  or  sunk,  to  one  common 
level.  Who  is  that  splendid  being,  arrayed  "  in  purple  and  fine 
linen,"  and  rolled  to  the  house  of  God  in  a  chariot  of  state  ?  He 
is  a  child  of  apostate  Adam,  and  by  nature  "  a  child  of  wrath, 
being  a  child  of  disobedience,  even  as  others."  Who  is  that 
wretch,  half  covered  with  rags  and  dirt,  come  to  the  same  sol- 
emn place,  supported  by  a  beggar's  staff?  He  is  another  child  of 
the  same  apostate,  and  sustaining  precisely  the  same  character. 
Both,  together  with  all  around  them,  are  sinners,  exposed  to  the 
wrath  of  God,  and  in  the  most  imminent  danger  of  final  perdi- 
tion. All,  also,  are  immortal;  are  probationers  for  eternal  hfe; 
and  are  now  "  prisoners  of  hope."  To  this  place  are  they  come, 
"  to  hear  words,  by  which  they  may  be  saved." 

In  this  single  character,  then  they  stand  before  the  Preacher, 
What  shall  he  say  to  them  ?  He  shall  deliver  the  Message  which 
God  has  put  into  his  hands.  He  shall  "  cry  aloud,  andfspare  not ; 
he  shall  lift  up  his  voice  as  a  trumpet,  he  shall  shew  the  house  of 
Jacob  their  iniquities,  and  his  people  their  transgression."  He 
shall  say,  "  Repent,  and  turn  yourselves  from  all  your  trangres- 
sions :  so  iniquity  shall  not  be  your  ruin.  Break  off  your  sins  by 
righteousness,  and  your  iniquities  by  turning  to  the  Lord.  Make 
you  a  new  heart,  and  a  new  spirit :  for  why  will  ye  die,  O  house 
of  Israel !  For  I  have  no  pleasure  in  the  death  of  him  that  dieth, 
saith  the  Lord  God  :  wherefore  turn  yourselves  and  live  ye.  Be- 
hold the  Lord's  hand  is  not  shortened,  that  it  cannot  save  ;  nor 
his  ear  heavy,  that  it  cannot  hear  :  But  your  iniquities  have  sepa- 
rated between  you  and  your  God  ;  and  your  sins  have  hid  his 
face  from  you.  Whereforp  do  you  spend  money  for  that  which 
is  not  bread  ;  and  your  labour  for  that  which  satisfieth  not  ?  In- 
cline your  ear,  and  hear,  and  your  souls  shall  live  ;  and  I  will 


496  THE  PREACHING  OF  PAUL  [SER.  XXXi, 

make  an  everlasting  covenant  with  you,  even  the  sure  mercies  of 
David.  Seek  ye  the  Lord,  while  he  is  to  be  found  ;  call  ye  upon 
him,  while  he  is  near.  Let  the  wicked  forsake  his  way,  and  the 
unrighteous  man  his  thoughts ;  and  let  him  turn  unto  the  Lord ; 
for  he  will  have  mercy  on  him  ;  and  to  our  God  ;  for  he  will 
abundantly  pardon  him.  F(jr  thus  saith  the  High  and  Lofty  One, 
who  inhabiteth  eternity,  whose  name  is  Holy,  I  dwell  in  the  high 
and  holy  place;  with  him  also  that  is  of  a  humble  and  contrite 
spirit ;  to  revive  the  spirit  of  the  humble,  and  to  revive  the  heart 
of  the  contrite.  For  I  will  not  contend  forever,  neither  will  I  be 
always  wroth :  for  the  Spirit  would  fail  before  me,  and  the  souls 
which  f  have  made." 

To  the  children  of  God  he  shall  at  the  same  time  address  the 
most  solemn  reproofs,  and  the  most  dehghtful  consolations  ;  to 
stay  their  backslidings,  on  the  one  hand,  and,  on  the  other,  to 
cheer  their  progress  through  this  vale  of  temptation  and  sorrow. 
He  shall  say,  "  My  beloved  Brethren,  work  out  your  salvation 
with  fear  and  trembling  :  For  it  is  God  that  worketh  in  you  both 
to  will,  and  to  do,  of  his  good  pleasure.     Be  ye,  therefore,  blame- 
less and  harmless,  the  sons  of  God,  without  rebuke.     Forget 
the  things  which  are  behind,  and  reach  forth  to  those  which  are 
before  :  Pressing  forward  towards  the  mark,  for  the  prize  of  the 
high  calling  of  God  in  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord."     Remember,  that 
"  without  Holiness,  no  man  shall  see  the  Lord  ;  that  circumcision 
is  nothing,  and  uncircumcision  is  nothing  ;  but  keeping  the  com- 
mandments of  God.     Be  ye  therefore  holy  in  all  manner  of  con- 
versation "     Without  love  ye  are  and  can  be  nothing  in  the  di- 
vine kingdom.     "  Let  no  man  deceive  you.     Evil  communica- 
tions corrupt  good  manners.     Flee  filthy  lusts."     Be  not  satisfied, 
that  you  have  "  a  name  to  live.     Humble  yourselves  in  the  sight 
of  the  Lord,  and  he  shall  lift  you  up.     Strengthen  the  things 
that  remain,  and  are  ready  to  die.     Hold  fast  that  which  ye  have, 
and  let  no  man  take  your  crown.     Build  yourselves  up  on  your 
most  holy  Faith  ;  praying  in  the  Holy  Ghost.     Keep  yourselves 
in  the  love  of  God,  looking  for  the  mercy  of  our  Lord  Jesus 
Christ  unto  eternal  life." 


f      SER.  XXXI.  BEFORE  FELIX.  497 

He  shall  also  "  speak  comfortably  to  Jerusalem,  and  shall  cry 
unto  her,  that  her  warfare  is  accomplished,  that  her  iniquity  is 
pardoned.  For  thus  saith  the  Lord  that  created  thee,  O  Jacob, 
and  he  that  formed  thee,  O  Israel,  Fear  not,  for  1  have  redeemed 
thee;  I  have  called  thee  by  thy  Name,  thou  art  mine.  When 
thou  passest  ihrou^ih  the  waters,  I  will  be  with  thee  ;  and  through 
the  rivers,  they  shall  not  overflow  thee  :  when  thou  walkest 
through  the  fire,  thou  shalt  not  be  burnt :  neither  shall  the  flame 
kindle  on  thee.  For  I  am  the  Lord  thy  God,  the  Holy  One  of 
Israel  thy  Saviour.  The  Gentiles  shall  see  thy  Righteousness, 
and  all  kings  thy  glory  :  and  thou  shalt  be  called  by  a  new 
Name,  which  the  mouth  of  the  Lord  shall  name.  Thou  shalt 
also  be  a  crown  of  glory  in  the  hand  of  the  Lord;  a  royal  dia- 
dem in  the  hand  of  thy  God.  Thou  shalt  no  more  be  called 
Forsaken ;  neither  shall  thy  land  be  any  more  termed  Desolate. 
But  thou  shalt  be  an  eternal  excellency ;  a  joy  of  many  genera- 
tions. For  although  in  my  wrath,  I  smote  thee  for  a  small  mo- 
ment, yet  with  everlasting  kindness  will  I  have  mercy  on  thee, 
saith  the  Lord  Almighty." 

In  a  word,  he  will  rouse  the  consciences  of  sinners  by  disclo- 
sing to  them  their  true  character,  their  real  danger,  their  amazing 
guilt,  and  the  anger  of  God  denounced  against  their  sins.  He 
will  point  out  to  them  the  only  vvay  of  safety  ;  the  righteousness 
of  Christ  received  by  faith  in  his  blood,  and  applied  for  their  sal- 
vation by  the  Spirit  of  Truth,  in  the  sanctification  of  their  souls. 
He  will  call  them  to  Repentance  and  Holiness,  to  the  renuncia- 
tion of  their  sins  and  the  reformation  of  their  lives,  in  the  Lord 
Jesus.  Christ  only  will,  in  all  his  discourses,  be  held  out  as  the 
Hope  of  GJory  to  Mankind ;  as  the  only  Atonement  for  sin,  and 
the  only  Saviour  of  sinners. 

To  Saints  he  will  point  out  the  difficulties  of  the  Christian 
race  ;  the  temptations  and  "  sins  which  most  easily"  and  frequent- 
ly "  beset  them ;"  and  the  means  of  strength,  peace,  and  safety. 
He  will  exhort  them  to  remember,  that  the  Faith  of  the  Gospel 
"  worketh  by  love  ;"  and  that  their  true  character  is  known  by  its 
fruits.     He  will  shew  them,  that  they  have  many  duties  to  per- 


498  THE  PREACHING  OF  PAUL  [SEll.  XXXI. 

form,  many  enemies  to  encounter,  many  difficulties  to  overcome, 
and  many  dangers  to  escape ;  and  will  remind  them,  for  their  en- 
couragement and  consolation,  that  in  God,  if  they  faithfully  seek 
him,  they  will  find  hope,  and  courage,  and  strength,  to  surmount 
them  all. 

In  this  manner,  "  he  will  teach,  as  one  having  authority,  and 
not  as  the  scribes  ;  and  his  speech,  and  his  preaching,"  will  be 
"  not  with  enticing  words  of  Man's  wisdom  ;"  which  instead  of 
awakening  the  conscience,  amending  the  heart,  and  rectifying 
the  life,  will  merely  allure  those  who  have  itching  ears  ;  and  pro- 
duce the  empty  admiration,  and  useless  applause,  of  the  Preach- 
er ;  "  but  in  demonstration  of  the  spirit,  and  of  power."  And 
the  Faith  of  his  hearers  "  will  stand,  not  in  the  wisdom  of  Man, 
but  in  the  power  of  God." 

As  the  amount  of  all  his  instructions  and  exhortations  is  found 
in  the  woM  of  God  only;  he  will  of  course  make  that  inestimable 
book  the  object  of  his  daily,  patient,  and  intense  study.  He  will 
not,  on  the  one  hand,  foolishly  rely  upon  the  mere  force  of  his 
genius  and  literary  attainments,  to  supply  what  the  Scriptures  on- 
ly can  give ;  nor,  on  the  other,  presumptuously  trust  to  unwar- 
ranted expectations  of  assistance  from  on  high.  These  are  mere- 
ly the  result  of  ignorance,  sloth,  and  presumption ;  and  when 
God  can  be  shewn  to  have  promised  his  peculiar  aid  to  the  errors 
of  ignorance,  and  the  sins  of  sloth  and  presumption ;  then,  and 
not  till  then,  may  such  assistance  be  rationally  expected.  Un- 
til that  time,  every  preacher  of  the  Gospel  will  be  bound  "  to 
give  himself  wholly  to  reading  and  meditating  the  Scriptures,"  ac- 
cording to  the  solemn  injunction  of  Paul  to  Timothy ;  that  he  may 
be  really  profited,  and  that  his  "  profiting  may  appear  unto  all." 
At  the  sa  me  time,  while  he  carefully  discourages  all  negligence 
and  unscriptural  hopes  in  his  hearers  ;  he  will  feel  himself  bound 
never  to  despair  of  the  salvation  of  any.  How  can  we  conceive 
of  a  case,  apparently  more  desperate  than  that  mentioned  in  the 
text?  The  preacher  was  a  prisoner,  under  trial  for  his  life  as  a 
capital  malefactor;  of  a  subjugate  and  hated  nation;  of  a  sect 
of  that  nation,  peculiarly  hated  and  despised  even  by  the  nation 


SER.  XXXI.]  BEFORE  FELIX.  499 

itself;  and  was  accused  by  the  great  council  of  that  nation,  com- 
prising all  its  principal  men.  Felix  was  the  chief  magistrate  of  the 
country ;  a  Roman,  and  therefore  supremely  haughty,  and  im- 
patient of  censure ;  a  ruler  unjust  and  cruel ;  an  oppressor ;  a 
murderer ;  a  man  lewd,  profligate,  and  abandoned.  Yet  this 
preacher  roused  the  conscience  of  this  man,  and  made  him  to 
tremble  at  the  honest  recital  of  his  sins  and  dangers.  Had  not 
Felix  with  a  spirit  of  procrastination,  but  too  common  among 
sinners,  postponed  his  attention  to  these  solemn  things  to  a  future, 
"convenient  season,"  which  never  arrived;  there  is  reason  to 
believe,  that  he  might  have  been  brought  to  repentance.  While 
life  remains,  no  preacher  is  warranted  to  think  any  man  beyond 
the  reach  of  divine  mercy.  When  he  least  expects  it,  the  most 
hardened  sinner  may  be  brought  to  tremble  at  a  plain  and  pow- 
erful exhibition  of  his  sins,  and  to  flee  with  terror  from  final  per- 
dition. "In  the  morning,"  therefore,  let  him  "  sow  the  seed,  and 
in  the  evening  withhold  not  his  hand  ;"  and  leave  it,  commended 
by  his  prayers,  to  the  rain  and  the  sunshine. 

4thly.  Hearers  ought  ever  to  expect  such  preaching  from  their 
ministers,  and  to  receive  it  willmgly  and  kindhj. 

Such  preaching  ought  certainly  to  be  expected  from  every 
faithful  minister  of  the  Gospel,  because  such  was  the  preaching 
of  Christ,  the  Prophets,  and  the  Apostles.  These  furnish  the 
only  example  to  ministers  ;  and  that,  a  perfect  example.  In  this 
example  the  preacher  finds  not  only  his  instruction,  but  the  law 
by  which  he  is  to  be  governed.  On  this  subject  Gob  himself  has 
given  us  his  own  comment,  and  precluded  al!  dispute  and  doubt. 
"  Son  of  Man,"  said  he  to  the  prophet  Ezekiel,  when  going  forth 
to  preach  to  the  Israelites,  "  I  have  made  thee  a  watchman  unto 
the  house  of  Israel ;  therefore  thou  shait  hear  the  word  at  my 
mouth,  and  warn  them  from  me.  When  I  say  unto  the  wicked, 
O  wicked  man,  thou  shalt  surely  die ;  if  thou  dost  not  speak  to 
warn  the  wicked  from  his  way,  that  wicked  man  shall  die  in  his 
iniquity  ;  but  his  blood  will  I  require  at  thy  hand.  Nevertheless, 
if  thou  warn  the  wicked  of  hisVay  to  turn  from  it ;  if  he  do  not 
turn  from  his  way.  he  shall  die  in  his  iniquity  ;  but  thou  hast  de- 


500  THE  PREACHING  OF  PAUL  [SER.  XXXL 

livered  thy  soul."  Can  any  preacher  hear  tliis  tremendous  de- 
nunciation against  unfaithful  watchmen,  and  not  tremble?  Can 
any  people  hear  it,  and  question  the  rectitude  of  such  preaching, 
as  I  have  enjoined  ?  Can  they  be  willing,  that  the  blood  of  im- 
penitent and  obstinate  sinners  should  be  required  at  the  hand  of 
their  minister  in  the  great  day  ?  Can  they  fail  to  wish,  and  to 
pray,  that  he  may  "  deliver  his  own  soul  ?"  What  congregation, 
unless  one  were  to  be  formed  of  maniacs,  or  to  be  summoned 
from  the  regions  of  eternal  sin  and  perdition,  can  be  supposed 
thus  mad,  thus  profligate,  thus  forsaken  of  their  God.  What 
congregation,  but  such  an  one,  can  demand,  can  wish,  can  ex- 
pect, can  consent,  that  their  minister  should  thus  become  a  sui- 
cide, and  murder  his  own  soul  ?  If  there  be  a  being  in  this  As- 
sembly, who  performing  the  usual  functions  of  a  man,  is  account- 
ed a  rational  being,  and  yet  claims  this  conduct  at  the  hands  of 
a  minister  of  the  Gospel  ;  let  him,  before  he  enters  the  house  of 
God,  read  this  dreadful  commission  to  Ezekiel,  and  henceforth 
be  dumb  on  this  subject  forever. 

If  arguments  can  be  needed,  after  what  has  been  already  said  ; 
let  every  hearer  remember,  that  the  preaching,  here  urged,  is  the 
only  preaching,  which  will  do  him  good.  The  very  opposition, 
which  he  manifests  to  this  preaching,  the  very  reluctance,  which 
he  feels,  to  have  his  guilt  and  dangers  brought  home  to  his  heart ; 
is  the  strongest  proof,  that  this  preaching  is  peculiarly  necessary 
for  kirn.  He  is  the  Felix  of  the  text ;  a  gross  and  guilty  sinner  ; 
exposed  to  the  wrath  of  God,  and  the  danger  of  devouring  fire. 
Let  him  remember,  that  in  displaying  his  guilt,  and  in  denouncing 
his  danger,  his  minister  is  using  the  only  possible  means  of  saving 
him  from  both.  The  physician  heals  a  pestilential  disease  by  the 
administration  of  bitter  remedies.  Still  they  are  remedies,  and 
will  accomplish  the  cure.  Were  he  to  substitute  for  them  all  the 
sweets  of  Hybla;  the  patient,  though  he  might  please  his  palate, 
would  lose  his  life.  The  surgeon  heals  an  ulcer,  or  a  fracture, 
by  exploring  it  with  a  hard  hand,  a  painful  probe,  or  a  searching 
caustic.  All  these  are  uncomfortable  ;  but,  were  he  to  neglect 
them,  the  wound  would  mortify,  and  the  limb  perish. 


SER.  XXXL]  BEFORE  FELIX.  501 

Every  truth  concerning  a  sinner,  except  this,  that  there  is  hope 
that  he  may  cease  from  sin,  and  those  truths  which  depend  on  this 
by  an  inseparable  connection,  is,  and  cannot  fail  to  be,  painful. 
Still  these  very  painful  truths  are  the  means,  without  which  there 
is  no  hope,  that  he  will  ever  cease  to  be  a  sinner.  To  do  him  good, 
they  must  be  told  to  him,  and  plainly  ;  without  disguise,  conceal- 
ment, oi^  softening.  The  preacher  must  not,  indeed,  end  his 
work  here  ;  but  must  also  spread  before  him  all  the  hopes  and 
consolations,  furnished  to  the  penitent  in  the  Gospel.  But  he 
must  do  this  work  ;  and  the  sinner  must  consent  to  have  it  done, 
unless  he  intends  to  be  lost  forever. 

5th!y.  Hearers  are  by  this  text  solemnly  warned  to  obey  the 
truths,  thus  preached,  without  delay. 

Hearers  have  two  great  duties,  with  regard  to  the  preaching 
of  the  Gospel,  enjoined  upon  them  by  God  :  to  receive  such 
preaching- ;  and  to  obey  it  without  delay.  The  Beroeans  have 
this  honourable  testimony  borne  concerning  them  by  the  Spirit 
of  God  ;  "  that  they  received  the  word  with  all  readiness  of 
mind ;"  that  is,  they  were  willing  to  be  told  the  truth ;  and,  to 
satisfy  themselves  whether  the  truth  was  told  them,  "  they  search- 
ed the  Scriptures  daily  ;  to  see  whether"  it  was  the  truth,  or  not. 
This  was  a  glorious  and  happy  character,  and  merits  the  imita- 
tion of  all,  to  whom  the  Gospel  is  declared.  There  are  those, 
who  are  impatient  of  all  honest  disclosures  of  evangelical  truth  ; 
and  who  regard  the  preacher,  when  delivering  it,  with  hatred  and 
anger.  But,  in  spite  of  the  natural  opposition  of  the  human 
heart  to  the  truth  of  the  Gospel,  it  is  my  firm  belief,  that  no 
preaching  is  in  this  country  so  popular,  as  that  which  is  strictly 
evangelical.  The  manifestation  of  the  truth  commends  both  it- 
self, and  him  who  preaches  it,  so  effectually  to  every  man's  con- 
science, that  the  natural  opposition  of  the  human  heart  is  not  un- 
frequently  silenced  and  overcome.  Even  the  selfishness  of  the 
sinner  is  unwittingly  embarked,  and  not  unfrequently,  on  the  side 
of  the  preacher.  The  sinner  often,  perhaps  usually  in  a  well  in- 
structed congregation,  knows  what  is  the  truth  ;  and  is  complete- 
ly satisfied,  that  truth  alone  can  ever  do  him  good,  and  prove  the 

Vol.  II.  64 


502  THE  PREACHING  OF  PAUL  [SER.  XXXI- 

means  of  salvation  ;  whereas  error,  he  equally  well  knows,  can 
only  flatter  him  here,  to  destroy  him  hereafter.  Besides,  there  is 
something  so  venerable,  excellent,  and  even  awful,  in  the  honest 
preaching  of  the  Gospel,  as  to  make  a  sinner  afraid  and  self-con- 
demned, whenever  his  heart  rises  in  anger  against  the  faithful 
preacher.  Even  Felix  was  not  angry  with  Paul ;  but  regarded 
him,  though  a  prisoner,  with  high  veneration.  Whatever  is  the 
cause,  this  is  certain  ;  that  no  preacher,  who  does  not  preach 
evangelically,  is,  in  most  parts  of  this  country,  long  held  in  high 
estimation,  or  relied  on  as  a  religious  man.  But  an  evil,  of  another 
kind,  is  still  found  here,  and  found  abundantly.  Sinners  hear, 
and  respect,  the  preacher ;  acknowledge  the  truth  of  his  doc- 
trines ;  and  confess  the  importance  of  obeying  them.  Nay  they 
usually,  or  at  least  in  many  instances,  intend  to  obey  them.  But 
here  they  stop. 

Let  me  appeal  to  this  Assembly  for  the  truth  of  these  observa- 
tions. Have  not  most  of  you,  who  now  hear  me,  at  some  period 
of  your  lives  thought  seriously  about  your  salvation  1  Have  you 
not  believed  yourselves  to  be  sinners,  standing  in  absolute  need 
of  "  repf  utance  toward  God,  and  Faith  toward  our  Lord  Jesus 
Christ?"  Have  you  not  designed  to  begin  this  great  business, 
and  to  "  escape  from  the  wrath  to  come?"  What  then  hindered 
you  from  proceeding  to  accomplish  it  ?  You  were  not  ready. 
You  were  too  deeply  immersed  in  business,  or  too  intensely  de- 
voted to  pleasure. 

In  the  mean  time,  you  saw  life  lengthen  before  you  through 
days  and  years,  enough  to  furnish  you  with  a  thousand  future  sea- 
sons of  repentance.  To  one  of  these  many  seasons,  far  more 
suitable  for  the  purpose  in  your  view,  than  the  time  present,  you 
concluded  to  postpone  the  work  ;  resolving,  when  the  happy  pe- 
riod should  arrive,  to  begin  it  in  earnest.  Days  and  years  have, 
through  the  mercy  of  God  to  you,  flowed  on  ;  but  have  you  found 
this  happy  season  ? 

My  Brethren,  the  world  is  filled  with  those,  who  say  to  Re- 
pentance, lo  Faith,  to  Holiness,  to  Christ,  to  God,  "  Go  thy  way 
for  this  time  ;  and  when  I  have  a  convenient  season  I  will  call 


SER.  XXXI.]  BEFORE  FELIX.  503 

for  thee.'"  To  procrastinate  the  business  of  salvation  is  the  real 
madness,  the  crying  sin,  of  Man.  "  Procrastination  is  the  thief," 
which  steals  away  not  only  our  "  time,"  but  our  hopes,  our  souls, 
our  all.  Ourselves  and  those  around  us,  however  contentious  in 
other  things,  are  agreed  wholly  in  this  ;  that  we  will  delay  that, 
which  alone  ought  never  for  a  moment  to  be  delayed.  "  Behold, 
now,"  saith  the  Apostle,  "  is  the  accepted  time  ;  Behold,  now  is 
the  day  of  salvation  !"  "  Behold,  now,"  we  reply,  "  is  the  time 
of  business!  Behold,  now  is  the  day  of  amusement !"  But  the 
accepted  time,  the  day  of  Salvation,  is  to-morrow  ,•  a  season  al- 
ways one  day  before  us,  and  never  overtaken. 

Can  this  conduct,  my  Brethren,  be  justified  ?  Can  it  consist 
with  wisdom,  with  duty,  with  common  sense  ?  "  Hear,  ye  deaf; 
and  look,  ye  blind  ;  that  ye  may  see."  Is  not  the  attainment  of 
eternal  life  the  only  end,  for  which  you  live  ?  And  shall  the  only 
end  of  life  be  postponed  to  its  close  ?  Judgment  and  eternity, 
heaven  and  hell  hang,  on  this  little  period.  Shall  it  be  wasted 
in  blowing  bubbles?  in  picking  straws?  in  gathering  cockle 
shells  ?  Will  you  "  sit  down  to  eat,  and  to  drink,  and  rise  up  to 
play,"  when  Gob  is  commanding  you  from  heaven,  "  to  do  what 
your  hand  findeth  to  do  with  your  might ;"  and  declaring,  "  that 
there  is  no  work,  nor  device,  nor  knowledge,  nor  wisdom,  in  the 
grave,  whither  you  go  :"  when  Christ  is  calling  on  you  "  to  strive 
to  enter  in  at  the  straight  gate,"  and  assuring  you  "  that  straight 
is  the  gate  and  narrow  is  the  way  that  leadeth  unto  life,"  and 
that  "  wide  is  the  gate  and  broad  is  the  way  which  leadeth  unto 
destruction."  Is  it  a  time  to  bustle,  and  toy,  and  trifle,  when 
"  hell  is  naked  before  you,  and  destruction  hath  no  covering  ;" 
when  the  door  of  life  is  ready  to  be  shut,  and  the  voice  of  Mercy 
to  sound  no  more  forever  ? 

But  when  is  the  work  of  Salvation  to  be  begun  ?  Is  it  to  be 
begun  to-morrow,  the  next  year,  or  at  some  distant  period  ? 
"  Boast  not  yourselves  of  to-morrow,  for  you  know  not  what  a 
day  may  bring  forth."  Allow,  what  you  have  no  right  to  expect, 
that  these  promised  seasons  will  all  arrive,  and  find  you  here. 
Will  you  be  at  all  better  disposed  to  begin  it  then,  than  now  ? 


504  THE  PREACHING  OF  PAUL  BEFORE  FELIX.     [SER.  XXXI. 

Why  are  you  now  indisposed  ?  Because  your  hearts  are  opposed 
to  repentance,  and  absorbed  in  "  the  lust  of  the  flesh,  the  lust  of 
the  eyes,  and  the  pride  of  life."  At  every  future  period,  your  op- 
position to  Repentance  will  be  stronger,  and  your  absorption  in 
the  world  and  its  lusts  more  entire.  "  Now,  therefore,  while  it  is 
called  to  day,  harden  not  your  hearts,  as  in  the  provocation." 

You,  with  all  men,  condemn  the  procrastination  of  Felix  ;  but, 
while  you  condemn  it,  you  act  it  over  again.  Where  is  he  now  ? 
What  would  he  give,  what  would  he  not  give,  to  have  the  day  re- 
turn to  him,  in  which  Paul  preached  before  him  in  so  faithful  a 
manner  ?  His  interest,  under  this  preaching,  was  the  same  with 
yours,  under  the  faithful  preaching  of  your  own  ministers.  Pro- 
crastination ruined  him  forever  :  continued,  it  will  ruin  you. 
Whenever,  therefore,  your  preacher  comes  out  to  you  with  inde- 
pendent honesty,  and  sincere  affection  ;  and  sets  your  sins  and 
duties,  your  danger  and  safety,  before  you,  in  the  strong  light  of 
the  Gospel ;  whenever  you,  at  the  same  time,  acknowledging  the 
truth  and  importance  of  all  his  solemn  declarations,  begin  to  post- 
pone your  obedience  and  salvation  to  a  future  day  ;  let  each  of 
you  recite  to  himself.  When  "  Paul  reasoned  of  Righteousness, 
Temperance,  and  Judgment  to  come,  Felix  trembled  ;  and  an- 
swered. Go  thy  way  for  this  time,  when  I  have  a  convenient  sea- 
son I  will  call  for  thee."  Thus  he  acted,  and  perished.  If  I  act 
in  the  same  manner,  I  shall  perish  also. 


SERMON  XXXIl. 


THE  PURITY  OF  THE  MINISTERIAL  CHARACTER. 

a  sermon  preached  at  the  ordination  of  the  rev.  moses 
stuart,  as  pastor  of  the  first  church  and  congrega- 
tion in  new-haven,  march  5,  1806. 

Matthew  v.  13. 

Ye  are  the  salt  of  the  earth;  hut  if  the  salt  have  lost  his  sa- 
voitr,  wherewith  shall  it  be  salted  ?  It  is  thenceforth  good  for 
nothing;  but  to  be  cast  out,  and  to  be  trodden  under  foot  of  men. 

These  words  are  a  part  of  Christ's  sermon  on  the  mount ;  and 
immediately  follow  the  Beatitudes.  From  the  place,  which  they 
hold  in  this  wonderful  discourse  of  our  Saviour,  it  will  naturally 
be  supposed,  that  they  are  of  peculiar  importance.  They  arc 
addressed  to  his  disciples ;  a  considerable  part  of  whom  were 
afterwards  apostles ;  and  most,  if  not  all,  of  the  others,  were 
ministers  of  the  Gospel.  It  is,  however,  undoubtedly  directed  to 
all  Christians,  and  is  true  of  them  all ;  but  it  is  particularly  appli- 
cable to  Ministers  of  the  Gospel ;  such  as  most  or  all  of  those 
were,  to  whom  it  was  immediately  addressed  ;  and  peculiarly  to 
the  apostles ;  who  were  ministers,  in  a  higher  sense  than  any 
others. 

To  these  Ministers  it  is  declared  by  the  Redeemer,  that  they 
"  are  the  salt  of  the  earth."  Salt,  among  the  Hebrews,  and,  it 
would  seem,  among  several  other  eastern  nations  also,  was  the 
emblem  of  purity,  wisdom,  and  perpetuity.  The  Israelites  were 
directed  to  offer  Salt  with  all  their  offerings,  as  a  symbol  of  the 
purity  of  mind,  with  which  those  offerings  were  to  be  made.  In 
Numbers  xviii.  God  gave  to  Aaron,  and  to  his  sons,  by  an  ordin- 


506  THE  PURITY  [SER.  XXXII. 

ance  forever,  certain  offerings,  presented  by  ti^ie  children  of  Is- 
rael ;  and  styled  this  ordinance  a  covenant  of  Salt.  "  Let  your 
speech,"  says  the  Apostle  to  the  Colossians,  "  be  always  with 
grace  seasoned  with  Salt;"  that  is,  with  loisdom;  referring,  per- 
haps, to  the  pungency,  with  which  observations,  eminently  wise 
and  useful,  affect  the  minds  of  those  who  hear  them.  Salt  was 
also  an  emblem  of  several  other  things,  which  need  not  now  be 
mentioned. 

As  the  emblem  of  purity^  Salt  is  chosen  with  singular  proprie- 
ty ;  on  account  of  the  peculiar  power,  which  it  possesses,  of  pre- 
serving all  things,  enclosed  in  it,  or  impregnated  with  it,  in  their 
sweet  and  natural  state,  and  securing  them  from  corruption  and 
decay.  This,  however,  it  accomplishes  only  when  possessed  of 
its  own  proper  and  perfect  nature.  This  it  is  capable  of  losing ; 
and  when  it  is  lost,  the  Salt  becomes  useless.  Mr.  Maundrell, 
journeying  in  the  valley  of  Salt,  about  fifteen  or  twenty  miles  from 
Aleppo,  broke  off  a  piece  of  this  substance,  from  a  small  preci- 
pice, from  which,  the  Salt  was  continually  taken  away  by  the  in- 
habitants of  the  neighbouring  country.  This  piece  he  found, 
though  resembling  perfect  Salt,  in  its  appearance,  had  yet,  by  ex- 
posure to  the  rain,  air,  and  sun,  entirely  lost  its  savour;  and 
speaks  of  it,  as  being  the  kind  of  Salt,  intended  by  our  Saviour, 
in  the  text. 

This  savour,  or,  as  it  is  called  by  Christ,  Mark  ix,  50,  saltness, 
is  the  property,  which  constitutes  the  only  value  of  Salt ;  for, 
when  this  is  lost,  "  it  is  thenceforth  good  for  nothing,  but  to  be 
cast  out,  and  trodden  under  foot  of  men."  It  can  no  more  be 
employed  for  human  use ;  and  is  fit  neither  for  the  purposes  of 
seasoning,  or  preserving,  our  food ;  nor  indeed,  for  any  of  those 
ends,  for  which  it  was  especially  designed. 

In  the  same  manner,  the  purity  of  ministers  is  the  foundation 
of  all  their  usefulness ;  all  the  means  of  seasoning  themselves  and 
others  ;  all  the  means  of  rendering  themselves  and  their  ministry 
acceptable,  and  useful,  to  mankind,  and  of  preserving  themselves 
and  their  hearers  from  corruption  and  ruin. 


SER.  XXXII.]        OF  THE  MINISTERIAL  €HARACTER.  507 

The  purity  of  ministers  may  be  advantageously  considered,  as 
internal^  and  in  this  sense,  invisible  except  to  the  eye  of  God  ;  or, 
as  external,  and  visible  to  their  fellow  men,  by  manifesting  itself 
in  the  life  and  conversation.  It  is  my  design  to  consider  it,  par- 
ticularly, in  the  latter  sense.  As  we  can  never  know  the  internal 
character,  except  by  its  manifestations  ;  so  it  is  plain,  that  it  can, 
in  no  other  manner,  have  any  influence  on  the  affairs  of  mankind. 
It  must  exist  in  the  soul,  or  it  cannot  be  manifested  ;  it  must  be 
manifested,  or  it  will  not  be  useful.  The  importance,  therefore, 
of  this  subject  commends  itself  very  forcibly,  as  well  as  immedi- 
ately, to  the  mind ;  and  demands  the  very  serious  attention  of 
both  ministers  and  their  fellow  men.  Ministers  cannot  but  see, 
that,  in  this  sense,  they  are  bound  to  "  have  Salt  in  themselves  ;" 
according  to  the  command  of  Christ :  their  fellow  men  cannot 
but  see,  that  they  have  a  right  to  expect,  and  require,  it  at  their 
hands. 

My  own  views,  concerning  the  purity  of  the  ministerial  charac- 
ter, in  the  sense  specified,  I  shall  endeavour  to  express,  so  far  as 
the  present  opportunity  will  conveniently  permit,  under  the  fol- 
lowing heads, 

I.  Purity  of  Preaching  ; 

II.  Purity  of  Administrations  ;  and, 

III.  Purity  of  Life. 

I.  Purity  of  Preaching  includes  the  doctrines,  which  are  preach- 
ed j  and  the  manner,  in  which  they  are  preached. 

1  St.  Purity  of  doctrine  denotes,  that  the  Gospel  be  faithfully 
and  exactly  preached. 

If  I  were  asked,  what  I  intend  by  the  Gospel  in  this  observa- 
tion, I  should  answer,  that  I  intend  ihe  following  doctrines,  and 
others  revealed  in  that  sacred  book,  which  in  my  view  are  insep- 
arably connected  with  these. 

That  there  is  One,  Self-existent,  Infinite,  and  Perfect  God. 

That  all  things  were  created,  and  are  preserved,  and  govern- 
ed, by  him,  according  to  his  pleasure. 

That  the  Law,  by  which  he  governs  moral  beings,  is  holy,  just, 
and  good  ;  and  requ'res  them  to  "love  him  with  all  the  heart, 
and  their  neighbour  as  themselves." 


508  THE  PURITY  [SER.  XXXII 

That  "  he,  who  doth  these  things,  shall  Hve  in  them ;  and  that 
the  soul  which  sinneth  shall  die." 

That  all  mankind  have  sinned,  "  and  are,  by  nature,  children 
of  wrath,  being  children  of  disobedience." 

That  Jesus  Christ,  the  Son  of  God,  who  is  himself  "  over  all, 
God  blessed  for  ever,  became  flesh ;"  and  "  was  set  forth"  by  the 
Father,  as  a  propitiation,  to  expiate  the  iniquities  of  mankind,  by 
dyins  on  the  cross,  that  they  might  live  : 

That  "  he,  who  believeth  on  him,  shall  be  saved  ;  and  that  he, 
who  believeth  not,  shall  be  damned  :" 

That  "  we  are  justified  freely,  by  the  grace  of  God,  through 
Faith ;  and  that"  that  Faith  is  "  not  of  ourselves,  but  the  gift  of 
God  :" 

That  the  Faith  of  the  Gospel  is  that,  "  which  worketh  by  love  :" 

That,  except  we  repent,  we  shall  perish. 

That  "  without  holiness  no  man  shall  see  the  Lord :" 

That  "  those,  who  believe  in  God,"  are  bound  to  "  be  careful 
to  maintain  good  works  :" 

That  "  not  by  works  of  righteousness,  which  we  have  done, 
but  according  to  his  mercy,  he  saves  us,  by  the  washing  of  re- 
generation, and  renewing  of  the  Holy  Ghost ;"  the  Third  Person 
in  the  glorious  Trinity  : 

That  the  "  Law  is  estabhshed"  by  the  Gospel,  and  "  not  made 
void,"  and  is,  and  ever  will  be,  the  rule  of  righteousness  to  all 
men : 

That  God  "  hath  appointed  a  day,  in  the  which  he  will  judge 
the  world  in  righteousness"  by  Jesus  Christ,  and  "  reward  every 
man,  according  to  his  works." 

That  all  true  penitents  will  be  blessed  forever.  That  the  final- 
ly impenitent  will  be  "  punished  with  an  everlasting  destruction, 
from  the  presence  of  the  Lord,  and  from  the  glory  of  his  power:" 

That  the  Word  of  God,  by  its  instructions,  precepts,  and  or- 
dinances, particularly  by  the  ministry  of  the  Gospel,  is,  in  the 
hands  of  the  Divine  Spirit,  made  effectual  to  salvation. 

These  Doctrines,  and  others  intimately  connected  with  them, 
are  in  my  view  pure  Doctrines  of  the  Gospel. 


SER.  XXXII.]        OF  THE  MINISTERIAL  CHARACTER.  509 

Generally,  the  Gospel  in  its  own  proper,  obvious  meaning : 
the  Gospel,  allowed  to  speak  its  own  sense,  and  not  a  sense 
devised  for  it  with  labour  and  contrivance  ;  so  as  to  make  it  con- 
form to  our  pre-conceived  opinions  ;  is  what  I  intend  by  purity  of 
Doctrine.  The  things  preached  should  ever  be  things  really  re- 
vealed. "  Secret  things  belong  to  God."  Things  which  are  re- 
vealed, and  only  those,  "  belong  to  Man."  By  revealed  things  I 
intend  not  only  such  as  are  expressed  ;  but  also  those  which  are 
clearly  and  certainly  implied.  Yet,  as  human  reasoning  is  so 
commonly  and  so  easily  deceptive,  especially  when  it  is  our  own 
reasoning ;  I  should  always  suspect  such  inferences,  as  are  con- 
nected with  scriptural  declarations  by  any  considerable  course  of 
arguments ;  and  admit  them,  as  scriptural  doctrines,  only  with 
extreme  caution.  All  that  is  really  disclosed  is  to  be  admitted, 
as  a  doctrine  of  the  Scriptures  ;  and  admitted  in  its  own  proper 
sense;  and  that  indifferently,  whether  it  accord  with  our  opino'is, 
or  contradict  them.  "  Let  God  be  true,  but  every  man  a  liar," 
is  a  sentence,  which  should  rule  in  the  mind  of  a  minister,  when- 
ever he  sits  down  to  read  the  Scriptures.  When  he  asks  for  the 
sense  of  a  passage,  he  ought  to  remember,  that  the  obvious 
meanings  if  it  have  one,  is  ever  to  be  prefered  ;  that  is,  the  mean- 
ing which  is  upon  the  whole  obvious.  It  is  a  just  remark  <jf  Dod- 
dridge, that  that  sense  of  the  scriptures,  which  naturally  strikes 
the  minds  of  plain  men,  is,  almost  of  course,  the  true  one. 

Ministers,  more  frequently  than  in  any  other  way,  trespass 
against  Purity  of  Doctrine  hy  preaching  their  own  philosophical 
opinions ;  or  opinions,  derived  from  their  own  reasonings,  and 
not  from  the  Scriptures.  This  is  often  done  from  the  love  of 
novelty;  often  from  the  desire  of  preserving  consistency  in  our 
own  system  of  doctrines;  often  from  reverence  for  the  opini  >ns 
of  others ;  and,  probably  almost  always,  with  a  persuasion,  rfiat 
what  we  preach  is  true,  and  must  be  scriptural.  But,  as  man 
could  not  make  a  system  of  Divinity  at  first ;  so  it  is  plain,  that 
he  cannot  mend  the  system,  which  God  has  made,  A  Minister, 
therefore,  will  ever  act  prudently,  in  being  satisfied  not  to  be 
"wise  above  that  which  is  written."     Almost  all  heretics  have 

Vol.  II.  65 


510  THE  PURITV  [SER.  XXXIL 

been  ingenious  and  philosophical  men  ;  and  were  themselves  en- 
snared, and  ensnared  their  disciples,  in  the  manner  which  I  am 
reprobating.  If  a  Minister  can,  like  the  Apostles,  prefix,  or  sub- 
join, It  is  written^  to  his  opinions,  and  his  Preaching  ;  he  will  be 
safe  himself,  and  will  usually  convince  and  satisfy  his  hearers. 

Young  men  are  commonly  in  peculiar  danger  from  this  source. 
As  we  advance  in  years,  we  naturally  lose  a  part  of  the  boldness, 
ardour,  and  high  sense  of  intellectual  independence,  which  are 
apt  to  prevail  in  the  youthful  mind.  We  are,  also,  compelled  to 
see  how  regularly  human  systems  of  Theology,  though  often  ad- 
mired and  believed  for  a  time,  lose  their  evidence,  and  their  influ- 
ence ;  and  are  ultimately  regarded  as  splendid  play-things,  fitted 
only  to  amuse  and  deceive  ;  while  we  are,  also,  more  and  more 
convinced,  that  "the  foundation  of  God  standeth  sure  ;  and  that 
every  word  of  God  is  pure,  and  endureth  forever." 

2dly.  Purity  of  Marnier  denotes  the  following  things. 

That  the  scheme  of  preachings  as  to  the  sentiments,  style,  and 
ntterance,  he  simple  and  direct-,  springing  from  a  sense  of  the 
importance  of  the  Preacher's  business,  and  an  earnest  desire  to 
accomplish  it  as  perfectly  as  may  be  ;  expressive  of  a  high  sense 
of  the  great  end,  for  which  the  Preacher  enters  the  Desk ;  viz. 
to  instruct,  and  move,  his  audience  ;  and  in  this  way  to  persuade 
them  to  repentance  and  reformation  : 

That  it  he  clear- and  intelligible;  exhibiting  doctrines  thorough- 
ly distinguished,  and  strongly  supported,  in  plain,  obvious  lan- 
guage ;  and  happily  disclosed  by  a  judicious  chosen  method,  and 
easy  illustration : 

That  it  he  solemn;  suited  to  the  amazing  solemnity  of  the 
subject,  and  the  end  of  preaching;  to  the  occasion  on  which, 
and  the  assembly  before  whom  he  appears;  to  the  design  of  the 
Sabbath,  and  the  venerable  character  of  the  Sanctuary : 

That  it  he  fervent ;  fitted  to  the  benevolent,  interesting,  and 
glorious  design  of  rescuing  mankind  from  the  bondage  of  corrup- 
tion. He,  who  is  not  interested  on  such  an  occasion,  belies  his 
office;  he,  who  is  interested,  and  at  the  same  time  persuades  oth- 
ers by  a  cold  and  heartless  manner  of  preaching,  that  he  is  not, 


SER.  XXXII.]        OF  THE  MINISTERIAL  CHARACTER.  511 

belies,  though,  it  may  be,  insensibly  to  himself,  his  own  feelings. 
In  preaching,  if  in  any  thing,  a  Minister  is  bound  to  be  "  not 
slothful  in  business,  but  fervent  in  spirit,  serving  the  Lord  :" 

That  it  he  hold;  not  indeed  WxXh.  self  confidence,  and  pride  of 
talents  ;  this  is  the  boldness  of  childhood  and  folly,  but  with  the 
firmness,  springing  instinctively  from  a  rivetted  persuasion  of  the 
goodness  and  importance  of  his  employment.  The  most  mod- 
est man  may  be  invincibly  firm,  from  this  source  ;  while  none  but 
the  eain,  proud,  and  silly,  will  derive  any  material  support  from 
the  other.  This  attribute  was  gloriously  exemplified  by  Christ, 
the  Prophets,  and  the  Apostles.  Nathan  said  unto  David  "Thou 
art  the  man."  "  Woe  unto  you  Scribes  and  Pharisees,"  said  our 
Saviour,  "  who  devour  widows'  houses,  and  for  a  pretence  make 
long  prayers  !  Ye  shall  receive  the  greater  damnation.  O  Gen- 
eration of  Vipers  !"  said  the  Baptist  to  the  Pharisees  and  Saddu- 
cees,  "who  hath  warned  you  to  flee  from  the  wrath  to  come?"  and 
to  Herod,  "  It  is  not  lawful  for  thee  to  have  thy  brother's  wife." 
"  But  ye  denied  the  Holy  One,  and  the  Just,"  said  St.  Peter  to 
the  Jews,  "  and  desired  a  murderer  to  be  granted  unto  you,  and 
killed  the  Prince  of  life."  "  O  full  of  all  subtlety,"  said  St.  Paul 
to  Elymas,  "  and  all  mischief,  thou  child  of  the  devil,  thou  ene- 
my of  all  righteousness  !  wilt  thou  not  cease  to  pervert  the  right 
ways  of  the  Lord?"  Every  faithful  Minister  will  follow  these  glo- 
rious examples,  as  occasion  demands  ;  and  never  suffer  the  fear 
of  man  to  prevent  him  from  "  warning  the  wicked  of  his  way, 
that  he  turn  from  it,  and  save  his  soul  ahve."  This  attribute  is 
mentioned  near  thirty  times,  as  a  characteristic  of  Christ,  and 
the  first  preachers  of  the  Gospel ;  and  is  by  this  fact  strongly 
commended  to  our  adoption.  Nor  will  it  fail  to  be  a  most  sup- 
porting consideration  on  a  dying  bed,  to  remember,  that,  with 
Paul,  "  we  have  not  shunned  to  declare  all  the  counsel  of  God." 

Finally,  that  it  he  acceptable.  Of  the  great  Jewish  Preacher  it 
is  recorded,  as  a  general  and  honourable  character,  by  the  Spirit 
of  God,  "  that  he  sought  to  find  out  acceptable  words;"  and, 
lest  we  should  imagine,  that  he  sacrificed  truth  and  righteousness 
for  the  attainment  of  applause,  it  is  immediately  subjoined,  "  that 


512  THE  PURITY  [SER.  XXXII. 

that,  which  was  written,  was  upright,  even  words  of  truth."  Up- 
right words,  then,  and  words  of  truth,  may  still  be  acceptable 
words.  While,  therefore,  we  are  directed  "  to  the  law,  and  to 
the  testimony,"  to  find  the  doctrines,  which  we  are  to  believe  and 
preach ;  and  are  informed,  that  "  if  we  speak  not  according  to 
this  word,  it  is  because  there  is  no  light  in  us ;"  we  are  also  re- 
quired to  preach  these  doctrines  in  "  acceptable  words."  Nor 
let  any  one  suppose,  that  this  is  an  easy  task,  or  to  be  accom- 
plished without  serious  labour  and  care.  The  inspired  Preacher 
himself,  with  ail  his  unrivalled  wisdom,  was  obhged,  it  would 
seem,  to  make  this  attainment  an  object  of  exertion  :  for  we  are 
told,  "  he  sought  to  find  out  acceptable  words."  If  we  would 
find  them,  we  must  labour  in  the  same  manner.  All  the  charac- 
teristics of  Preaching,  which  have  been  already  mentioned,  con- 
tribute in  their  several  ways  to  render  the  manner  acceptable  ; 
but  I  intend  something  more  by  this  term.  I  intend,  that  the 
manner  shall  be  such,  as  to  discover  a  reigning  sweetness  of  dis- 
position :  an  affectionate  sympathy  with  Christians,  mingling  it- 
self with  all  the  counsel,  exhortation  and  reproof,  addressed  to 
them  :  a  tender  concern  for  the  salvation  of  sinners,  exhibiting 
itself  as  well  in  disclosing  the  threatenings  and  alarms  intended 
to  awaken  them  to  repentance,  in  the  rebukes  designed  to  chas- 
ten their  iniquities,  and  in  the  solemn  warnings  of  their  guilt  and 
danger  ;  as  in  disclosing  the  persuasive  and  glorious  motives,  held 
out  to  them  in  the  invitations  and  encouragements  of  the  gospel: 
a  universal  ipoderation  and  candour  in  discussing  disputed  doc- 
trines :  a  foir  statement  of  objections  against  the  Preacher's  own 
opinions  :  a  serious  and  benevolent  mode  of  answering  them : 
and  a  careful  avoidance,  on  the  one  hand,  of  such  phraseology, 
as  is  known  to  be  regarded  with  particular  prejudice  by  his  hear- 
er^ ;  flnd,  on  the  other,  of  all  such  exhibitions  of  doctrine  or  pre- 
cept, as  terminate  merely  in  exciting  fearful  apprehensions  con- 
cerning the  Preacher's  own  heresy.  Every  Preacher  is  bound  by 
the  HUthority  of  God  to  preach  the  truth;  but  no  authority  obli- 
ges him  to  exhibit  it  in  such  a  manner,  as  to  persuade  his  hearers, 
that  it  is  falsehood. 


%ER.  XXXII.]      OF  THE  MINISTERIAL  CHARACTER.  513 

To  what  has  been  here  observed,  it  is  proper  to  add,  that  every 
man  has,  naturally,  a  ckaracteristical  mwiiier  of  thinkings  writing 
and  speaking,  which  is  his  own.  This,  undoubtedly,  ought  to  be 
conceded  freely  to  every  man :  for  none  can  drop  it  with  advan- 
tage, and  successfully  assume  another.  But  with  this  native  man- 
ner of  every  man,  who  is  qualified  to  preach  at  all,  all  the  quali- 
ties, insisted  on  in  this  discourse,  are  consistent ;  and  may  there- 
fore be  attained  by  him,  in  a  greater  or  less  degree.  The  natural 
manner  of  one  man  will,  I  acknowledge,  lean  more  to  some  of 
them  than  toothers,  and  that  without  any  material  disadvantage. 
Substantially,  they  may  all  be  acquired  by  every  Preacher. 

The  opposites  to  Purity  of  Manner,  or  the  modes  in  which 
Preachers  are  most  exposed  to  fail  of  it,  are  chiefly  the  fol- 
lowing. 

1st.  Uttering  our  passions  in  the  Desk:  such,  for  example,  as 
our  resentments  against  Individuals,  classes  or  sects.  In  this  con- 
duct are  often  exhibited,  instead  of  evangelical  zeal,  and  attach- 
ment to  the  Gospel,  our  own  bigotry,  hatred,  anger,  and  con- 
tempt, for  others.  Another  example  may  be  found  in  the  pride, 
heat,  and  petulance  of  a  Polemic  ;  often  displaying  the  censura- 
ble spirit  of  controversy,  the  insolence  of  victory,  and  the  impa- 
tience of  defeat ;  instead  of  the  sober  love  of  truth,  the  impartial 
submission  to  evidence,  and  the  honest  desire  to  do  good,  which 
characterize  the  upright  minister  of  the  Gospel,  "  contending 
earnestly,"  from  the  desire,  not  of  victory,  but  of  defending  "  the 
faith,  once  delivered  to  the  saints." 

2dly.  A  manner,  sometimes  adopted,  of  alarming  and  distres- 
sing an  audience,  not  concerning  their  guilt  and  danger,  but  con- 
cerning the  heretical  character  of  the  Preacher,  and  his  Doc 
trines. 

This  effect  is  produced  by  the  choice  of  new  and  strange  phra- 
seology ;  the  utterance  of  singular,  and,  to  mankind  in  general, 
perplexing  opinions,  in  a  great  measure  foreign  to  both  the  faith 
and  duty  of  the  hearers,  as  well  as  of  the  Preacher  ;  and  deliver- 
ing paradoxes,  instead  of  the  sober  sentiments  of  Revelation  and 
common  sense.     These  are  generally  made  up  of  inferences,  de- 


514  THE  PURITY  [SER.  XXXIt. 

rived,  by  long  and  perplexed  reasonings,  from  passages  of  Scrip- 
ture, or  from  acknowledged  doctrines  ;  are  always  in  danger  of 
being  false  ;  are  rarely  evinced  to  be  true  ;  and,  if  true,  and  evin- 
ced to  be  true,  are  rarely  of  any  serious  importance  or  utility. 
At  the  same  time,  by  their  novelty,  and  the  boldness  and  confi- 
dence with  which  they  are  declared,  they  rouse  attention,  and 
excite  alarm  ;  and,  when  they  are  rejected  and  reprobated,  the 
Preacher,  unfortunately  in  my  view,  consoles  himself  with  the  re- 
flection, that  the  opposition  to  him  and  his  doctrines  arises  only 
from  the  hatred  of  the  truth,  so  generally  discovered  by  man- 
kind. 

3dly.  An  ostentatious  manner.  In  this,  the  Preacher  labours 
to  discover  his  learning,  his  sagacity,  or  his  brilliancy. 

4thly.  A  manner^  which  I  shall  call,  covert.  In  this,  the  Preach- 
er, either  carefully,  or  carelessly,  avoiding  exactness  of  definuion, 
clearness  of  method,  and  distinctness  of  discrimination,  throws 
his  discourse  together  in  a  mass  ;  so  that  it  is  usually  out  of  the 
power  of  his  hearers  to  know  what  he  hirnself  beheves,  or  what 
he  would  wish  them  to  believe.  Texts  he  glosses  over  without 
determining  their  precise  meaning,  or  whether  they  have  any  such 
meaning.  His  own  opinions  he  slurs  in  such  a  manner,  as  to 
leave  them  to  be  guessed  out,  rather  than  understood  ;  and  keeps 
his  hearers  in  such  a  state  of  uncertainty  concerning  what  he  be- 
lieves, that  it  sometimes  remains  in  doubt,  even  after  his  death. 
This  conduct  is,  in  some  instances,  the  result  of  negligence  ;  in 
others,  of  the  fear  of  offending  those  who  hear  ;  and,  perhaps 
more  frequently  still,  of  lax  opinions  in  the  Preacher,  which  he  is 
conscious  cannot  be  safely  disclosed. 

5thly.  A.  manner  characterised  hy  levity.  Such,  as  preach  in 
this  manner,  exhibit  the  truths  of  the  Gospel  with  much  the  same 
air,  with  which  they  recite  ordinary  occurrences.  Their  language 
is,  to  a  great  extent,  so  cool,  sportive,  and  trifling,  and  their  sen- 
timents are  so  marked  with  indifference  and  lightness  of  mind,  as 
naturally  to  persuade  their  hearers,  that  they  are  assembled 
rather  to  be  amused,  and  pass  away  pleasantly  those  hours  of 
the  Sabbath  which  would  otherwise  hang  heavily,  than  to  learn 


SER.  XXXII]        OF  THE  MINISTERIAL  CHARACTER.  515 

their  guilt  and  danger,  and  obtain  tlieir  salvation.  Such  Preach- 
ers forget,  that  God  has  required  a  "  bishop  to  be  sober  ;"  that 
they  speak  in  his  name ;  that  they  address  immortal  beings,  in 
imminent  danger  of  perishing  forever ;  that  by  their  Preaching, 
if  faithfully  performed,  these  beings  might  be  saved  ;  that  Christ 
and  his  Apostles  never  trifled  with  their  hearers  ;  and  that  them- 
selves must  soon  give  "  an  account"  to  God  "  of  their  steward- 
ship." 

Gtlily.  A  lazy  manner.  It  is  not  to  be  expected,  that  all  men 
should  be  equally  animated  and  fervid  in  their  addresses  to  man- 
kind. I  am  ready  cheerfully  to  make  all  the  allowances  which 
can  be  asked,  for  constitutional  differences  of  character.  But  no 
man  needs  to  be  lazy.  Every  man  can  be  in  earnest ;  and  can 
persuade  others  that  he  is  in  earnest ;  and  when  he  has  persua- 
ded them  of  this  fact,  can  produce  in  their  minds  a  serious  and 
solemn  sense  of  serious  and  solemn  truths.  This  being  admitted, 
every  man's  native  manner  will  be  a  good  and  useful  one ;  the 
best  always,  which  can  be  adopted  by  Idm.  The  lazy  manner, 
of  w'hich  I  speak,  is  natural  to  no  man ;  at  least  to  no  man,  who 
ought  ever  to  be  found  in  the  Desk.  It  may,  perhaps,  be  the  re- 
sult of  habit,  insensibly  creeping  on  the  mind ;  but  it  is  far  more 
frequently  the  result  of  unpardonable  inattention  to  the  import- 
ance, subjects,  place,  and  occasion,  of  Preaching  ;  the  offspring 
of  a  very  censurable  carelessness,  concerning  the  great  end  of 
the  evangelical  ministry.  The  language,  the  sentiments,  the  ar- 
guments, of  such  a  Preacher  indicate  strongly  thai  he  is  solici- 
tous rather  to  pass  without  censure,  than  to  discharge  his  duty  ^ 
and  to  keep  his  audience  quiet,  rather  than  to  promote  their  sal- 
vation. 

All  these  modes  of  Preaching  offend  plainly  against  Purity. 
Some  of  them,  whether  intentionally  or  not,  are  evidently  viola- 
tions of  common  honesty.  All  of  them  are  unhappy  :  all  of  them 
may,  with  suitable  care  and  faithfulness,  be  avoided.  No  man 
will,  I  think,  hesitate  to  say,  that  every  Preacher  of  the  Gospel  is 
bound  to  avoid  them. 


516  THE  PURITY  [SER.  XXXII. 

11.  The  Administrations  of  a  Preacher  are  either  Public  or 
Private. 

The  Public  Administrations  of  a  Preacher  are  principally  con- 
fined to  the  Sacraments  and.  to  Discipline. 

Purity  in  the  Administration  of  the  Sacraments  demands^  that 
they  be  administered  to  the  proper  and  scriptural  objects ;  aDd  of 
course,  that  the  Minister,  with  the  utmost  care,  study,  and  faith- 
fulness, determine  in  his  own  mind,  and  to  his  own  satisfaction, 
who  are  those  proper  objects.  He  is  bound  to  remember,  "  that 
other  foundation"  of  the  church,  or  temple,  of  God  "  can  no  man 
lay,  than  that  is  laid,  which  is  Jesus  Christ ;  that  he,  and  every 
other  Minister,  is  bound  to  take  heed  how  he  buiideth  thereupon  ; 
that  if  any  man  build  upon  this  foundation  gold,  silver,  precious 
stones,  wood,  hay,  stubble,  every  man's  work  shall  be  made  man- 
ifest ;  for  the  day  shall  declare  it ;  because  it  shall  be  revealed 
by  fire :  and  the  fire  shall  try  every  man's  work,  of  what  sort  it 
is.  If  any  man's  work  abide,  which  he  hath  built  thereupon,  he 
shall  receive  a  reward.  If  any  man's  work  shall  be  burnt,  he 
shall  suflJer  loss.  Himself  indeed,  if  found  faithful,  shall  be  saved, 
yet  so  as  by  fire."  It  cannot  be  necessary,  that  I  should  attempt 
to  enforce  these  declarations. 

Purity  in  the  manner  of  administering-  Sacraments  demands, 
that  their  nature,  end,  and  use,  be  faithfully  and  effectually  ex- 
plained ;  that  the  great  truths,  which  they  so  powerfully  exhibit, 
be  strongly  inculcated  ;  that  the  deep  interest,  which  ail  men 
have  in  coming  to  them  evangelically,  be  frequently  and  forcibly 
inculcated  ;  and  that  they  be  conducted  with  the  highest  ear- 
nestness, solemnity,  and  affection. 

Purity  in  the  administration  of  Discipline  requires  indispensa- 
bly, that  it  be  undertaken  with  the  utmost  care,  caution,  forbear- 
ance and  tenderness  ;  and  at  the  same  time,  with  steadfast  fidel- 
ity and  firmness.  None  but  gentle  passions  of  the  Minister  ought 
here  to  have  any  place.  No  other  passions  of  the  Brethren 
ought  to  find  the  least  indulgence.  The  only  appearance  of  any 
single  act  of  Discipline  ought  to  be,  not  as  it  sometimes  is,  that 
of  the  prosecution  of  private  revenge,  but  that  of  discharging  an 


SER.  XXXII.]        OF  THE  MINISTERIAL  CHARACTER.  517 

indispensable  duty  to  God,  and  to  Christians ;  intentionally  di- 
rected only  to  the  good  of  the  offender,  the  edification  of  the 
churcl),  the  advancement  of  religion,  and  the  glory  of  Christ. 
Here,  "  the  wisdom  which  is  from  above,  which  is  without  par- 
tiality," ought  supremely  to  control,  and  beautifully  to  shine. 
Here  especially,  "  the  Servant  of  the  Lord  must  not  strive,  but 
be  gentle  unto  all  men."  At  the  same  time,  there  are  occasions, 
on  which  he  is  required  "  to  rebuke"  both  solemnly  and  sharply ; 
that  those  who  are  rebuked  "  may  be  sound  in  the  faith."  On 
all  occasions  also,  he  is  bound  "  to  watch  for  the  souls"  of  his 
flock  ;  that  he  may  approve  himself  a  "  a  faithful  and  wise  ser- 
vant ;"  although  for  this  conduct  he  may  endure  many  afflic- 
tions. 

The  Private  administrations  of  a  Minister  are  information^ 
demanded  by  the  ignorance  ;  exhortation^  by  the  sloth  ;  and  re- 
proof by  the  manifest  sins,  of  his  people.  The  members  of  every 
congregation  need  continually  to  have  their  ignorance  removed  ; 
their  faith  settled  ;  their  doubts  dispelled  ;  their  duty  explained  ; 
and  particularly  those,  which  are  called  cases  of  conscience,  so 
determined,  as  to  prevent,  or  recall  from,  error  and  sin,  af)d  to 
guide  to  truth  and  righteousness.  Beside  the  faithfulness,  neces- 
sary for  the  discharge  of  this,  as  well  as  of  every  other,  ministerial 
duty,  two  things  are  especially  required  here  :  the  knowledge'  of 
the  Scriptures  and  the  knowledge  of  the  human  character  ,•  or, 
more  definitely,  the  knowledge  of  man  as  a  moral  being.  The 
general  character  of  man,  as  a  moral  being,  is  most  extensively, 
exactly,  and  wonderfully  communicated  in  the  Scriptures.  But 
the  peculiar  traits,  which  distinguish  one  man  from  another,  can 
never  be  learned,  except  from  man  himself.  So  vast  and  various 
a  subject  can  never  be  comprised  within  the  compass  of  any 
book.  To  gain  this  knowledge,  every  Minister  must  with  un- 
ceasing care  and  attention  apply  himself  to  the  study  of  men ; 
and  learn  them  from  themselves.  Cases  of  conscience,  doubts, 
and  difficulties,  he  will  find  ever  varying  from  each  other  in  some- 
thing, and  in  something  which  deserves  his  attentive  regard.    To 

Vol.  n.  66 


518  THE  PURITY  [SER.  XXXII. 

their  own  accounts,  particularly,  he  must  lend  a  patitnt  and 
watchful  ear;  that  he  may  learn  the  true  nature  of  their  difficul- 
ties, distinguish  between  their  real  and  imaginary  evidences  of 
piety,  and  between  false  aiKl  well  founded  hopes  ;  mark  carefully 
their  self-flattery,  their  causeless  despondency  ;  and  effectually 
discriminate  between  these  and  their  solid  consolations,  their 
genuine  light,  and  their  evangelical  joy.  All  these  and  the  like 
thing?  he  must  learn  from  Men  ;  for  he  will  find  them  imperfectly 
recounted  in  books.  Vigilance  and  perseverance  will  make  him 
possessed  of  this  invaluable  knowledge.  When  possessed  of  it, 
he  is  bound  to  apply  it  to  the  several  cases,  presented  to  him, 
with  fidelity  ;  whether  the  application  be  painful  or  pleasant, 
comfortable  or  discouraging  ;  without  flattery  or  concealment, 
and  with  the  utmost  tenderness  and  concern  for  each  indi- 
vidual. 

His  private  exhortations  he  is  required  to  administer  on  every 
proper  occasion  :  to  watch  opportunities,  as  an  eminent  Divine 
once  expressed  it,  to  drop  a  word  for  God  ;  to  urge  his  fellow 
Christians  to  their  duty,  especially  when  they  are  dull  and  reluc- 
tant ;  to  move  and  invigorate  pious  and  charitable  purposes  in 
their  minds ;  to  quicken  diligence ;  to  rouse  activity ;  and  to 
temper  zeal. 

Purity  in  administering  private  reproof  demands,  that  for  all 
private  transgressions,  and  for  many  which  are  not  private,  the 
reproof  be  administered  privately.  "  Go,  and  tell  thy  brother  his 
fault,  between  him  and  thee  alone,"  is  a  rule,  which  cannot  be 
too  much  regarded  by  a  Minister  of  the  Gospel.  Nor  in  any 
case,  except  where  necessity  requires  it,  should  the  facts  be  dis- 
closed afterwards.  To  reprove  successfully  is  an  attainment  of 
high  importance,  and  far  less  common  than  could  be  wished. 
The  great  secret  of  doing  it  lies  in  seizing  the  happiest  opportu- 
nities ;  in  possessing,  and  manifesting,  the  gentle,  meek,  and  for- 
bearing spirit  of  the  Gospel ;  and  in  evincing  a  desire  of  nothing, 
but  doing  real  good  to  him  who  is  reproved.  Pride,  petulance, 
and  passion,  airs  of  superiority,  resentment,  or  indifference,  sting- 


sER.  XXXII.]        OF  THE  MINISTERIAL  CHARACTER.  519 

ing  expressions,  and  even  those  which  are  blunt,  or  cold,  are  to- 
tally out  of  place  here ;  and  will  awaken  no  emotions,  but  those 
of  anger,  opposition,  and  contempt.  Even  the  Psalmist  could 
say,  "  Let  the  righteous  smite  me  kindly,  and  reprove  me :  let 
not  their  precious  oil  break  my  head."  At  the  same  time,  every 
Minister  should  remember,  that  to  reprove  privately,  as  well  as 
publicly,  is  one  indispensable  part  of  his  duty ;  "  and  that  al- 
though he  who  reproveth  a  scorner  getteth  to  himself  shame  ; 
yet  as  an  ear-ring  of  gold,  and  an  ornament  of  fine  gold,  so  is  a 
wise  reprover  upon  an  obedient  ear." 

III.  Purity  of  life  involves  Innocence,  Prudence,  and  Activity. 

"  Be  ye  harmless  as  doves,"  was  one  of  the  directions,  given 
by  our  Saviour  to  his  Apostles,  when  they  were  entering  upon 
their  first  mission  ;  and  is  still  a  direction  of  incalculable  impor- 
tance to  every  minister  of  the  Gospel.  Accordingly  the  first  at- 
tribute, required  of  a  Bishop  by  St.  Paul,  is,  that  "  he  be  blame- 
less." 

The  character  of  a  Minister  should  ever  be  regarded  by  him- 
self, as  demanding  the  same  care,  the  same  exact  and  delicate 
attention,  with  that  of  refined  and  respectable  women.  In  the 
same  manner,  it  is  required  of  him  by  the  world,  not  merely  that 
he  do  not  transgress  the  acknowledged  rules  of  Religion  and 
propriety,  but  that  he  keep  at  a  remote  distance  from  every  fault, 
and  every  reasonable  suspicion.  He  must  not  be  seen  to  ap- 
proach, he  must  not  in  fact  approach,  he  must  not  by  sober  and 
candid  men  be  suspected  of  approaching,  towards  transgression. 
Let  no  Minister  think  these  restrictions  injurious,  or  burdensome. 
On  the  contrary,  they  are  eminently  honourable  and  beneficial. 
Their  very  existence  proves,  that  Ministers  have  so  conducted 
themselves  in  this  country,  that  this  conduct  from  them  is  regu- 
larly expected,  as  well  as  demanded.  At  the  same  time,  they 
furnish  strong,  and  important  security  to  every  Minister  of  his 
continuance  in  an  umblamable  character,  and  of  his  possession 
of  that  pecuhar  usefulness,  which  can  be  derived  from  no  other 


520  THE  PURITY  [SER.  XXXII. 

source.     We  cannot  have  too  many  inducements  to  do  that 
which  is  right,  or  to  abstain  from  that  which  is  wrong. 

True  Wisdom  originally  dwelt  with  Prudence;  and  dwells  with 
it  always.  When  Christ  directed  his  Apostles  to  "  be  harmless 
as  doves,"  he  directed  them  also  to  "wise  as  serpents."  This 
cardmal  excellence  of  mind  .*vnds  its  chief  employment  in  the 
prevention  and  avoidance,  of  evil.  How  necessary  is  this  excel- 
lence in  such  a  world  as  this,  where  evil  is  ever  at  hand ;  and 
where  imprudent  men  are  continually  marring  the  best  designs, 
perplexing  the  peace,  and  preventing  the  happiness  of  their  fel- 
low men ! 

Among  the  essential  ingredients  of  this  excellence  in  a  Minis- 
ter gravity  or  sobriety  is  one;  and  one,  of  no  trifling  significance. 
Accordingly  it  is  expressly  required  by  St.  Paul  in  the  character 
of  a  Bishop.  This  characteristic  is  indispensable  to  give  dignity 
to  his  life,  weight  to  his  opinions,  and  authority  to  his  reproofs. 
Levity  is  wholly  inconsistent  with  the  nature  of  his  office, 
and  with  all  personal  dignity.  Trifling  conversation,  light-min- 
ded sentiments,  and  frivolous  conduct,  will,  of  course,  humble 
him  to  a  very  ordinary  level ;  and  withdraw  from  him  all  the  res- 
pect, naturally  attached  to  his  office.  Caution,  also,  is  an  indis- 
pensable ingredient  of  Prudence.  A  single  rash,  headlong  act  may 
deeply  stain,  or  wholly  destroy  his  character.  He  is  bound, 
therefore,  habitually  to  watch  all  his  conduct ;  to  consider  well 
before  he  resolves;  to  abstain,  in  this  sense,  "from  every  appear- 
ance of  evil ;"  and,  in  every  difficult  or  doubtful  case,  to  apply 
himself  for  counsel  to  those  in  whom  he  can  safely  confide.  Es- 
pecially ought  he  to  be  cautious  of  interfering,  without  plain  ne- 
cessity, in  the  concerns  of  others,  where  the  interference  is  not 
demanded  by  the  nature  of  his  office.  St.  Peter  appears  to 
class  a  "  busy-body  in  other  men's  matters"  with  persons  of  the 
vilest  and  most  scandalous  characters. 

Affability,  modesty,  gentleness,  and  moderation,  are  also  traits 
in  the  character  of  Prudence,  each  of  which  is  of  no  small  im- 
portance.    Men  intentionally  reserved  are  rarely  loved  ;  proud, 


SER.  XXXII.]        OF  THE  MINISTERIAL  CHARACTER.  521 

vain,  and  self-confide. it,  men  are  either  hated  or  despised  ;  harsh 
men  are  loathed  of  course ;  and  vehement  men  distrusted  and 
dreaded.  He,  who  would  be  loved  and  trusted,  must  distinguish 
himseil  by  a  character,  directly  opposed  to  all  these  disagreeable 
defects. 

Bui  the  chief  ingredient  of  Prudence  is  "  watchfulness  over 
the  tongue."  "  My  Brethren,"  says  St.  James,  "  if  any  man 
among  you  seem  to  be  religious,  and  bridieth  not  his  tongue,  but 
deceiveth  his  own  heart,  thdt  man's  rehgion  is  vain."  And  again, 
"If  any  man  otiend  not  in  word,  the  same  is  a  perfect  man,  and 
able  also  to  bridle  the  whole  body."  "  By  thy  words,"  saith  our 
Saviour,  "  shall  thou  be  justified  ;  and  by  thy  words  shalt  thou 
be  condemned."  "  Death  and  Life,"  says  Solomon,  "  are  in  the 
power  of  the  tongue,  and  whoso  keepeth  his  mouth  and  his 
tongue  keepeth  his  soul  from  troubles."  With  these  solemn  decla- 
rations in  view,  every  Minister  is  powerfully  called  on  to  unite 
with  David  in  that  earnest  prayer,  "  Set  a  watch,  O  Lord,  before 
my  mouth,  keep  the  door  of  my  lips !"  The  evils,  especially  op- 
posed to  this  great  ministerial  duty,  and  from  which  incalculable 
mischief  sometimes  flows,  are  particularly  the  following.  Giving 
characters  ;  reciting  private  history ;  uttering  sentiments  and  ex- 
pressions of  levity,  passion,  and  contempt;  delivering  sudden 
and  rash  opinions  ;  attacking  with  bitterness  such  as  are  opposed 
to  us,  either  in  opinion,  or  conduct ;  and  discovering  strong  wish- 
es to  shine,  by  attempting  frequently  bold,  brilliant,  and  witty 
observations  ;  assuming  the  character  of  satirists  ;  embarking  in 
our  conversation  in  private  contentions :  and  thus  shewing,  that 
we  enter  unduly  into  the  wishes  and  resentments  of  others.  He 
who  does  these  things  will,  after  all  the  warnings  of  St.  James, 
not  unfrequently  be  surprised  to  "  behold,  how  great  a  matter,  a 
little  fire  iindleth." 

All  the  observations,  which  I  have  made  under  this  head  hith- 
erto, respect  merely  the  avoidance  of  doing  evil.  This,  though 
perhaps  the  most  difficult  part  of  a  Minister's  duty,  is  yet  only  an 
indirect  manner  of  doing  good.     Purity  of  life  demands  of  the 


522  THE  PURITY  [SER.  XXXII. 

Preaclier,  that  he  do  good  directly  also ;  and  that  in  this  honour- 
able employment  he  exert  an  unceasing  Activity. 

In  his  study  this  activity  is  first  to  be  employed.  Sloth  is  the 
source  of  almost  all  serious  defects  in  a  Preacher.  Sloth  is  ne- 
cessarily, and  regularly,  the  source  of  ignorance ;  and  an  igno- 
rant Teacher  is  a  self  contradiction.  Sloth  is  also  the  source  of 
barrenness  of  thought  and  therefore  of  dullness  in  the  Preacher, 
and  inattention  in  his  hearers.  Sloth  is  also  the  source  of  bar- 
renness of  instruction ;  and  therefore  of  ignorance,  error,  and 
stupidity,  in  his  hearers.  Few  employments  are  more  laborious 
and  difficult,  than  to  preach  continually,  and  yet  acceptably  and 
usefully,  for  a  considerable  series  of  years.  Almost  any  man  of 
tolerable  information,  choosing  the  happiest  seasons  of  thought, 
and  the  subjects  with  which  he  is  best  acquainted,  may  form  a 
few  good  Sermons,  with  no  other  labor  than  that  of  composing 
them.  The  difficulty  lies  in  providing  such  Sermons  for  ten, 
twenty,  and  thirty  years  in  succession.  No  man,  who  does  not 
study,  can  overcome  this  diiliculty.  Whatever  powers  of  ima- 
gination or  eloquence  he  may  possess ;  he  will  still  be  defective 
in  useful  information,  sound  sense,  and  solid  thought ;  and  will 
soon  find,  that  for  these,  as  the  means  of  entertainmg,  as  well  as 
profiting,  his  audience,  there  can  be  no  substitute.  The  great 
business  of  a  Preacher  is  to  preach  the  Truth.  Without  diligent 
study  the  Truth  cannot  be  known  by  him  :  without  study,  there- 
fore, his  prime  duty  cannot  be  faithfully  performed.  At  the  same 
time,  his  sloth  will  be  a  wound  to  his  conscience,  which  he  cannot 
heal ;  and  a  reproach  to  his  character,  which  he  cannot  wipe 
away. 

Abroad,  his  Activity  must  be  extended  to  all  his  concerns.  He 
must  visit,  instruct,  and  comfort,  the  sick  and  the  distressed ; 
allay,  as  much  as  in  him  lies,  the  heat  and  violence  of  conten- 
tion ;  reconcile  such  as  are  employed  in  it ;  and  preserve  peace 
and  good  neighbourhood  among  his  people  :  remembering,  that 
"  the  fruit  of  righteousness  is  sown  in  peace,  of  them  who  make 
peace."     He  must  also  devise,  encourage,  and  invigorate,  all 


SER.  XXXII.]        OF  THE  MINISTERIAL  CHARACTER.  523 

prudent,  charitable  efforts ;  strengthen  the  hands  of  parents  and 
instructors  in  the  virtuous  education  of  children ;  and  promote 
by  every  proper  means  the  good  order  and  welfare  of  his  coun- 
try. In  all  these  desirable  things  he  must  not  be  merely  an  advi- 
ser, and  exhorter,  but  an  eminent  and  distinguished  example. 
"  His  light  must  so  shine  before  others,  that  they,  seeing  his  good 
works,  may,"  by  approving  and  imitating  his  amiable  conduct, 
"  glorify  our  Father  who  is  in  heaven  ;"  and  that  his  flock,  by  his 
hfe,  as  weil  as  his  preaching,  may  be  drawn  after  him  in  his  way 
to  eternal  glory. 

REMARKS. 

From  this  summary  account  of  what  is  included  in  the  purity 
of  the  Ministerial  character  its  nature  may,  I  hope,  be  in  some 
good  measure  discerned.  The  importance  of  this  attribute  is  in 
the  most  forcible  manner  displayed  in  the  text.  "  If  the  salt 
have  lost  its  savour,  it  is  thenceforth  good  for  nothing  ;  but  to  be 
cast  out,  and  to  be  trodden  under  foot  of  men."  An  entire  want 
of  purity  is,  to  a  Minister,  an  entire  want  of  worth  ;  in  the  eyes 
of  both  God  and  men.  Beyond  this,  it  is  a  character  loathsome 
and  contemptible,  a  violation  of  all  his  professions,  a  sacrifice  of 
all  his  duty.  Evert/  approach  towards  it  is,  therefore,  to  be 
dreaded,  and  shunned. 

When  a  Minister,  then,  calls  to  mind  the  commission  which 
he  has  received,  the  hand  by  which  it  was  written,  the  employ- 
ment to  which  he  is  consecrated,  and  the  divine  end  for  which 
his  office  is  instituted  by  God  ;  will  it  be  possible,  that  he  should 
fail  to  cultivate  with  unceasing  earnestness  and  zeal  Purity  of 
preaching,  of  administrations,  and  of  life  ?  Can  he  fail  to  "  watch 
thereto  with  all  perseverance  ?"  Will  he  not  "  bow  his  knees" 
daily  "  to  the  Father  of  all  mercies,  for  wisdom  to  direct"  him, 
and  for  "grace  to  help  in  time  of  need  ?"  Will  he  not  "seek 
for  it,  as  for  silver ;  and  search  for  it,  as  for  hidden  treasure  ?" 
Purity  is  the  seasoning  of  his  Ministry,  the  sweetness  and  ami- 


524  THE  PURITY  [SER.  XXXII 

ableness  of  his  character,  and  the  means  of  preserving  his  flock 
from  corruption  and  ruin. 

"  I  venerate,"  says  the  illustrious  Cowper, 

"I  venerate  the  man,  whose  heart  is  warm. 

Whose  hands  are  pure,  whose  doctrine  and  whose  Hfe, 

Coincident,  exhibit  lucid  proof, 

That  he  is  honest  in  the  sacred  cause." 

What  man  of  common  candour,  or  even  common  sobriety, 
would  not  subjoin  to  this  sentiment  his  solemn  Amen  ?     What 
Minister  would  not  watch,  and  strive,  and  pray,  unceasingly,  that, 
in  an  office  so  sacred,   with  a  destination  so  dignified,   and  m  a 
cause  so  momentous  ;  he  may  establish,  preserve,  and  exhibit,  a 
character,  on  which  all  his  usefulness  and  peace  of  mind  so  evi- 
dently depend  ?     At  the  same  time,  let  every  Minister,  and  every 
church  and  congregation,  strongly  realize  the  excellence  as  ivell 
as  the  importance,  of  this  office;  and  of  that  evangelical  Purity 
of  heart  and  life,  which  is  its  soul  and  substance.     "Ye  are  the 
Salt  of  the  earth,"  said   our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  to  his  disciples ; 
including  probably  some,  who  through  life  continued  to  be  pri- 
vate Christians,  as  well  as  others,  who  were  destined  to  the  apos- 
tleship,  and  to  the  ministry.     The  excellence  of  all  christians  is 
their  Christianity.     The  peculiar  excellence  of  Ministers  lies  in 
the  diligent,  zealous,  and  faithful  application  of  their  Christianity 
to  the  great  purposes  of  persuading  others  to  become  Christians, 
and  of  preserving  and  edifying  those  who  have  already  assumed 
the  Christian  character.     "  Ye  are  the  Salt  of  the  earth  :"  the 
means  of  preserving  it  from   final   and  fatal  corruption.     This 
great  world  is  every  where,  naturally,  an  immense  mass  of  putre- 
faction ;  corrupted   with  error ;  tainted   with  sin ;  and,   left  to 
itself,  tending  rapidly  to  absolute  ruin.     The  great  instrument  in 
the  hands  of  God,  both  for  restoring  and  preserving  it,  so  as  to 
be  fitted  for  the  use,  of  which  it  is  capable,  and   rendering  it 
again  an  object  of  the  divine  complacency ;  is  unquestionably 
the  ministry  of  the  Gospel. 


SER.  XXXII.]        OF  THE  MINISTERIAL  CHARACTER.  625 

The  Pulpit,  says  the  excellent  Poet,  whom  I  just  now  quoted. 

"  I  say  the  Pulpit  (in  the  sober  use 

Of  its  legitimate,  peculiar  powers) 

Must  stand  acknowledged,  while  the  world  shall  stand, 

The  most  important  and  effectual  guard. 

Support,  and  ornament,  of  virtue's  cause. 

There  stands  the  messenger  of  truth.     There  stands 

The  legate  of  the  skies.     His  theme  divine, 

His  office  sacred,  his  credentials  clear. 

By  him,  the  violated  law  speaks  out 

Its  thunders ;  and  by  him,  in  strains  as  sweet 

As  angels  use,  the  gospel  whispers  peace. 

He  stablishes  the  strong,  restores  the  weak. 

Reclaims  the  wand'rer,  binds  the  broken  heart; 

And,  arm'd  himself  in  panoply  complete 

Of  heavenly  temper,  furnishes  with  arms, 

Bright  as  his  own,  and  trains  by  every  rule 

Of  holy  discipline  to  glorious  war. 

The  sacramental  host  of  God's  elect. 

If  any  man  demands  evidence  of  the  soundness  of  these  dec- 
larations let  him  cast  his  eyes,  for  a  moment  only,  on  those  coun- 
tries, or  even  on  those  parts  of  his  own  country,  which  have  been 
long  destitute  of  the  ministry  of  the  Gospel ;  and  he  will  find 
proofs,  of  the  most  convincing  kind.  He  will  find  religion  un- 
known ;  morals  languishing,  or  dead  ;  extreme  ignorance  uni- 
versally prevalent ;  knowledge  neglected  and  despised ;  vice 
reigning  triumphantly  ;  virtue  expiring  at  her  feet ;  the  Bible  un- 
read and  forgotten;  the  Sabbath  devoted  to  horse-racing,  visiting, 
revelling,  and  riot ;  the  tongue  an  instrument  of  profaneness  and 
blasphemy  ;  the  hands  mere  weapons  of  injustice  and  violence, 
or  mere  tools  of  avarice  and  fraud  ;  the  salvation  of  the  soul  un- 
attempted,  and  unthought  of;  the  life  of  man  that  of  a  profli^ 
gate  ;  and  his  death  that  of  a  brute.  From  this  miserable  pros- 
pect let  him  turn  his  eye  to  the  "  Mount  Zion"  of  Christians,  "  and 
go  round  about  her.  Let  him  tell  the  towers  thereof;  mark  well 
her  bulwarks,  and  consider  her  palaces."  Then  let  him,  if  he 
€an,  refrain  from  exclaiming  with  David,  "  Beautiful  for  situation, 

Vol.  II.  67 


526  THE  PURITY  [SER.  XXXII. 

the  joy,  of  the  whole  earth,  is  Mount  Zion,  in  the  sides  of  the 
North,  the  city  of  the  great  King."  Let  him,  if  he  can,  refrain 
from  bcheving,  that  "  the  Lord  hath  chosen  Zion  ;"  that  "  he 
hath  desired  it  for  his  habitation  :"  or  that  he  hath  said,  "  This 
is  my  rest  forever  :  here  will  I  dwell ;  for  I  have  desired  it.  I 
will  abundantly  bless  her  provision  ;  I  will  satisfy  her  poor  with 
bread  :  I  will  also  clothe  her  priests  with  salvation :  and  her 
saints  shall  shout  aloud  for  joy." 

To  a  faitiiful  Minister,  then,  labouring  diligently  to  perform  the 
duties  of  an  office,  instituted,  approved,  and  commended  by 
God;  sustained  by  the  glorious  Redeemer,  while  he  tabernacled 
in  the  flesh ;  so  honourable  in  itself;  destined  only  to  the  most 
benevolent  and  desirable  purposes  ;  the  means  of  preserving  this 
great  world  from  absolute  destruction  ;  and  the  chief  instrument 
of  restoring  to  mankind  virtue,  glory,  and  immortality ;  the 
members  of  every  church  and  congregation  are  bound,  both  by 
the  authority  of  God,  and  their  own  supreme  good,  to  lend  con- 
tinually their  countenance  and  aid.  By  these  solemn  obligations, 
they  are  required  to  receive  and  welcome  the  evangelical  doc- 
trines which  he  delivers ;  to  assist  all  his  benevolent  efforts  to 
promote  the  common  good,  and  that  of  individuals  ;  meekly  to 
receive  his  reproofs  and  exhortations  ;  generally  to  render  his  life 
useful  and  comfortable,  and  his  weight  and  influence  as  a  minis- 
ter as  effectual,  as  may  be  to  every  evangelical  purpose. 

The  best  Minister  is  a  man  ;  and  of  course  surrounded  by  hu- 
man imperfections.  St.  Peter  has  taught  us,  what  he  well  knew 
by  unhappy  experience,  that  this  treasure  is  placed  in  earthen 
vessels  ;  made  of  humble  materials,  frequently  defective  in  their 
structure,  and  easily  broken  to  pieces.  A  church  and  congrega- 
tion are,  therefore,  required  both  by  reason  and  revelation  to  re- 
gard the  imperfections  of  a  Minister  with  moderation  and  tender- 
ness. It  may  be  thought,  that  I  have  delineated  the  duties  of  a 
Minister  with  a  rigid  hand  :  it  will'  scarcely  be  suspected,  that 
I  have  drawn  them  with  a  lax  one.  But,  while  I  think  Mm 
indispensably  bound   to  labour  diligently  and  faithfully  to  per- 


SER.  XXXII.]        OF  THE  MINISTERIAL  CHARACTER.  527 

form  these  duties  ;  I  regard  his  hearers  as  equally  bound  to  per- 
form theirs  ;  to  regard  him  kindly  in  all  his  evangelical  exer- 
tions ;  to  remember  his  work  and  labour  of  love ;  to  consider 
the  difficulties  with  which  it  is  attended  ;  and  to  keep  in  view  the 
numerous  imperfections  within,  and  discouragements  without, 
with  which  he  is  obliged  to  struggle.  Even  Paul  could  not  help 
exclaiming,  "  Who  is  sufficient  for  these  things  V  All  the  diffi- 
culties, which  he  found,  except  such  as  arise  from  persecution, 
still  remain,  and  are  still  attached  to  the  office.  If  his  hearers 
remember  this,  and  consider  its  importance :  if  they  regard  him 
with  Christian  affection  ;  if  they  treat  him  with  evangelical  kind- 
ness ;  if  they  aid  him  with  continual  and  fervant  prayers  to  God  ; 
he  and  they  will  be  mutually  blessed  in  the  present  world  ;  and 
become  to  each  other  "  a  crown  of  rejoicing  in  the  day  of  Christ 
Jesus."     Amen ! 


THE    END    OF    VOL.    II. 


DATE  DUE 


JUN  3  0Z0)2 


GAYLORD 


rED  IN  U    S 


Princeton  Theological  Seminary-Speer  Ubrary 


1    1012  01050  3268 


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